An Unexpected Understudy
by ToYourLeft
Summary: Waking up in the body of a very male Bilbo Baggins in a whole different world was not on the top of Laura Aldine's list. But according to Gandalf, the Valar had their reasons. Laura just wished they had bothered to ask her first.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Well, hi. It's been a while since I have posted over here and in a completely different fandom from my other work to boot. I have a huge weakness for OC stories and so I decided to try my hand at one. I wrote this completely for my own amusement but I thought others might enjoy it as well. This is unbeta'd and any mistakes you see are my fault. This is my first attempt at a multichaptered fic and is a mix of movie and book 'verse, so please do let me know what you think. Any constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing except Laura.

**Summary:** Waking up in the body of a very male Bilbo Baggins in a whole other world was not on the top of Laura Aldine's list. But according to Gandalf, the Valar had their reasons. Laura just wished they had bothered to asked her first.

* * *

I was not a stranger to waking up in unfamiliar surroundings. I had attended college, for however short a time, where it was practically a requirement to drink through the night and then fall asleep wherever you land- whether it be your own bed, two floors below in the common area, or even in a bush halfway across campus. And then there had been a time or two (not many mind you) where I had woken up in someone else's bed after a particularly eventful night at a bar.

At twenty-six, I had not woken up in such a way in a long time. My life was absolutely mundane: wake up, work at the diner, listen to my best friend Hayley's latest girlfriend troubles or my Grandma's latest gossip about the members of her bridge club, go home and dodge the landlord so as not to be harassed for my perpetually overdue rent, sleep. Repeat.

I had never done anything adventurous or unexpected in a long time and was I quite happy that way, thank you very much.

But when I woke up on The Morning that was exactly what I got: something unexpected.

That Morning is when everything changed. Literally.

The bedroom I was in was not one I had ever seen and the bed I had found myself in was most definitely not my own. The soft light the streamed in through a round window that I did not recognize; it was not the grey grimy light that usually came in through my own window or even the filtered light that streamed through the curtains of my childhood bedroom.

That was a bit alarming.

Rolling out of bed, I quickly wiped the sleep from my eyes and assessed my situation. My first realization was that the hand I had used to clear my eyes was not my hand at all. Or, at least, it was not the hand I had my entire life. These fingers were shorter and the nails neatly trimmed, clean of the purple nail polish that I had gone to bed wearing.

My eyes widened as I held this new hand up to examine it more closely. Yeah, definitely not my hand.

Scratch my earlier thought, I decided with fervor. _This _was alarming.

Anxiety mounting, I scrambled around the sturdy looking bed and eyed the chest at its end. A good of a place to start as any, I thought. Pulling open the chest I quickly started to shift through its contents. Linens, a candle holder, several thick-looking jackets, what looked like a small loom, and then finally a small round mirror set in intricately carved wood.

Fumbling to turn the mirror toward me, I stopped breathing at the sight of my reflection. Because what I saw was not my reflection. Not the one I was used to.

The face staring back at me was round with a large nose, fair skin, a frowning mouth, brown eyes- thankfully my eyes- and curly golden hair. And- were those- yes- _pointed ears?_ I traced my fingers over an ear. Those were not my ears. That was not my face.

This was not me. This was someone else. I quickly pulled at the waistline of the sleep pants I was wearing to confirm my suspicion. A very male someone else.

I don't remember dropping the mirror but I must have. What I do remember was my frantic attempt to get out of wherever I was- a dream, I remember thinking. My hands braced me against the wall as I scrambled to what must have been the front door, a huge round green thing set at what the end of what looked like an entryway.

And what I saw when I opened that green monstrosity made me want to run right back inside.

Looking back, my first eyeful of Middle Earth was almost iconic: Rolling green hills, quaint dirt paths, a clear blue sky, and the sound of farm animals and people beginning their day.

But I was terrified. This was not my home. This was not a place I recognized, not even a little. I couldn't see a single power line or hear any kind of vehicle- not even a lawnmower. The people who I could see as they moved around in the distance were wearing unfamiliar clothes, large full skirts on what could only be women and old-fashioned looking trousers and shirts on what were likely men.

Oh, God.

I stumbled down the path from where I had emerged out of _a literal hole in the ground_, tripping over large feet that were in no way natural. I came to a stop at what could only be a front gate and gratefully collapsed on the bench overlooking the path that wound past the property.

I don't know how long I sat there, head in my hands, struggling to breathe. I ran through every trick I knew to try and wake up from this obvious dream, if not outright hallucination. None of them worked. Finally I settled on controlling my breathing. However long it was, it was enough time for someone to make their way up the winding path and stop in front of me.

"Good morning."

My head shot up at the words. Oh, God, now I had to talk to someone. Could they not see I was in the middle of a nervous breakdown? Were the obvious pajamas and heavy breathing not enough to dissuade them?

"Good morning," I replied hoarsely, cringing at my new voice. It was undoubtedly masculine. Great, this was still happening.

In front of me was, well, someone. I hesitated to call him a human because he was so tall, at least twice my height, and his limbs seemed strangely elongated compared to my new ones. This stranger was old with a long beard, a pointed hat, and grey robes. In his hands was a staff, almost as tall as he was, that he was using to prop himself up.

"You," He said gravely, "are not who you appear to be."

I inhaled sharply, surprised. "I- I-" I flicked my eyes to meet his, grey just like the rest of him, before looking away.

"No." I finally answered, looking back up at him. "I, um, I don't think I'm supposed to be here."

The man harrumphed. "That remains to be seen. But if you are not Bilbo Baggins, then who are you?"

Bilbo Baggins? Maybe that's whose face I was wearing.

I swallowed, my throat clicking nervously. "My name is Laura. Laura Aldine." I paused, unsure, then asked, "Can you help me?"

The man's gaze turned razor sharp for only a moment, long enough to give me a once over, before softening. "I will certainly try."

He stepped forward, pushing open the gate and moved to stand next to my bench. "I am Gandalf the Grey. Now, why don't you and I go inside for some tea? I believe it is time for elevenses."

And with that he went up to still open door and ducked inside.

Well, alright then.

I jumped up and followed, pushing the door closed behind me once I had crossed the threshold. It was then that I took the time to observe my surroundings. This place, wherever I was, was clearly a home not a hole in the ground as I had first assumed. It was cozy and filled with natural sunlight, with wide doorways and intricate looking furniture. It was beautiful, really.

"In here my dear," Gandalf called from my left.

Snapping out of my reverie I turned to follow Gandalf's voice, crossing through what looked like a sitting room and into a kitchen.

"Ah, very good." Gandalf said turning from where he was bent, almost comically low, over a fireplace. His hat and staff were nowhere to be seen. "Come, sit down. I've just boiled the kettle."

And so he had. In fact, not only was the kettle whistling but a fire had been started and an impressive amount of food was already on the table. Huh.

I hesitated, my manners kicking in. "Is there anything I can help with?"

Gandalf let out a low chuckle, "No, no," He lead over the table, pouring the water into a little china teapot. "Here we are."

I nodded, sitting at the low table just as Gandalf did the same opposite of me. It was strange seeing him in this place, he shoulders curved over a table that was just too small for him.

"While the tea is steeping," Gandalf began, "Let us try to get to the bottom of this matter."

I cleared my throat, "Yes, alright. But first I have to ask: how did you know I was me and not this Bumbo Bragging person?"

"Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf corrected, eyes twinkling. "Why, it is quite obvious to a wizard such as myself. I have known Bilbo and his family for many years and your soul is not that of a hobbit by any means. You are a child of Men through and through. But the real question is how did you arrive here in Bilbo Baggins' body?"

My mind whirled. A wizard? Like Harry Potter? And what in the world was a hobbit?

I decided to tackle the most pressing news first. "I'm sorry, did you say wizard?"

Gandalf hummed. "Yes, I have many names but Gandalf is what most call me. I am one of the guardians of this world, one of many. Now, if you please. How did you get here?"

"I don't know." I sighed. "I went to sleep in my own bed in my own body and then I wake up here in- in this one. I don't even remember dreaming."

Gandalf frowned and said nothing, eyes unfocused. Okay then.

"You're a protector though?" I pressed after a few more moments had passed with no response. "Does that mean you know how this happened? Or you can fix whatever the hell this is?"

Gandalf looked thoughtful, taking ahold of the teapot and pouring us each a cup. "I am afraid that I have never seen anything like this before but I have no doubt your appearance here is no accident. It is likely the work of the Valar."

I wrapped a hand around my teacup but didn't drink. "Who are the Valar?"

Gandalf lowered his own cup. It looked like a child's cup when he held it. "They are the powers who watch over Middle Earth. Rarely do they intervene so directly but there is always a reason for it, of this I can assure you."

"Middle Earth?" I repeated carefully. "Is that where we are?"

Gandalf nodded, watching me closely. "Yes. You are now in Hobbiton of the Shire, to the West, in the home of Bilbo Baggins built by his father: Bag End and the end of Bagshot Row."

"And these powers," I started, eyeing one of the little cakes on my left. "They planned this? Why?"

"That is not for you to know," Gandalf said sternly. "Nor I, though I believe they will reveal their plan in time."

I huffed. Great. "But if I'm here, where is Bilbo?"

For the first time since I had met him, Gandalf hesitated. "I do not know. I can only assume that he is being looked after by the Valar. You are here now in his place and that is the way the world will have to be."

My hands clenched. "So, that's it then. I just have to wait around here until these gods feel like talking to me?"

"No," Gandalf answered sharply, "You will do no such thing. I did not come to Bag End in a fit of fancy. I came here to recruit Bilbo Baggins' for an adventure. Since you are here in his stead you must fill this role."

I scowled. This did not sound promising. "An adventure? No thank you. Sounds terrible."

"You have very little choice in the matter." Despite his words, Gandalf was smiling.

I took a long gulp of tea before asking wearily, "And how long will it be? A week? Two?"

Gandalf looked amused. "Would it be so simple. It will take several months for us to reach this particular journey's end and the road will be long and perilous. Travelling undetected is the highest priority."

How fun.

"Do not frown," Gandalf ordered, depositing a scone onto his plate. "You will not be going alone. There will be others and I will be looking after you. This is a matter of great importance, I assure you."

I sighed. A super long camping trip was likely as good as I was going to get. And who knew? Maybe this was actually just a bizarre dream after all. One could only hope.

"Alright," I said, resigned. "I'll go on your adventure. But first," I reached over and took one of the little cakes for myself. I might as well get something good out of this. "What's a hobbit?"

Gandalf laughed.

* * *

Gandalf left later that afternoon, declaring that he had to go and greet our traveling companions.

I had learned much from his visit but likely a lot less than I should have been entitled to. Gandalf had been generous about his knowledge of the Shire, Middle Earth itself, as well as the creatures inhabiting it. And I, in turn, told him everything I knew about my world in hopes that he might find some insight as to why I was here.

In this world or dimension or universe- _whatever _you wanted to call it, elves, dwarves, trolls, and goblins were all real. And hobbits, I had found out, were small gentle farmers: isolated but hardworking and incredibly uninterested in the rest of the world and its goings on. Gandalf had also assured me, looking like he was trying not to laugh, that overgrown hairy feet and pointed ears were the norm among them.

It was a lot to take in, to be honest, and I wasn't completely convinced that Gandalf wasn't just making things up as he went along.

And though Gandalf had been pleased enough to share with me what Middle Earth was, he was much more tight-lipped about the adventure he had roped me into. No matter how often or in what ways I asked, he remained silent on what exactly we were going to try and accomplished. He simply told me that our other travelling companions would be more than happy to explain.

And these companions? They were apparently dwarves. _Dwarves_.

There were thirteen of them, Gandalf had told me, and they would be expecting dinner when they came to visit that evening.

With the dishes of elevenses, lunch, and afternoon tea were washed and returned to the cupboard, our last task together was to investigate Bilbo Baggins' pantry and assess our supplies. Gandalf hm'd and haw'd for a bit, poking at the tomatoes and pushing jars and baskets this way and that before deciding that it would have to do.

With hat and staff in hand Gandalf made for the door, turning around only once to relay strict instructions to me to pack one traveling bag, and only one, for the journey tomorrow.

It was honestly a little overwhelming. This was real and it was happening.

Luckily I had several hours between Gandalf's departure and the dwarves- dwarves!- scheduled arrival time that I used to alternatively panic, explore Bag End for camping necessities, and haphazardly plan a dinner party.

In the end, I was quite proud of myself. By the time the sun had set, I had not only gathered my- or rather Bilbo's- gear and stored it in a single bag but I had also trained myself not to jump every time I saw my new reflection.

Progress.

I was doing one last round of exposure therapy at the large mirror in the main hall of the house when the doorbell rang.

It had begun.

Nervously I ran my fingers along the line of my throat as I moved to the entry hall. The bell rang again, longer and louder than the first time. I took one deep breath, grabbed ahold of the door latch and pulled.

And there stood the first dwarf I had ever seen.

He was tall, taller than I expected, taller than my new body at any rate. His body was bulky and well-built and covered with an impressive amount of tattoos. The top of his head may have been bald but he had an interesting mullet sort of style going with his remaining hair. An impressive beard and mustache covered most of an unmistakable scowl and on his back were two war axes that looked to be as long as I was tall.

He was pretty scary, honestly. Like the Middle Earth version of a Hell's Angel.

"I, um." Good job, Laura, really starting out great. "Hello. "

The dwarf looked unimpressed and it might have been my imagination but I could have sworn his scowl deepened. "Dwalin, at your service."

I cleared my throat, remembering the coaching on Middle Earth manners Gandalf had given me during lunch. "Bilbo Baggins at yours."

The dwarf stepped inside, careful not to brush against me as I closed the door. "The wizard said there'd be food."

"Yes," I agreed. "I can- I can take your cloak if you'd like."

This time Dwalin outright glared.

"Or not," I backtracked, resisting the urge to put my hands up in surrender. "But of you would like to be rid of it, just put it in there." I pointed to what I had gathered to be Bilbo's lounge across from the entrance hall.

Dwalin's glare lessened slightly as he grunted in acknowledgement. He gave me a once over before moving into the lounge. A loud thump of a bag being dropped indicated that he had taken up on my offer after all. I hoped that he didn't damage Bilbo's hardwood floors.

When he returned he prompted impatiently, "The food, lad?"

I briefly considered feeling offended at being called a lad but then I remembered the soft round face in the mirror and our pretty substantial size difference. I was fairly certain he could knock my- Bilbo's, whatever- teeth out with his pinky.

Right, then.

"This way please." I said as cheerfully as I could. I turned to lead him down one of the halls and to the kitchen.

"I was hoping to ask for your advice," I admitted, gesturing to the pantry. "I'm not really sure what dwarves prefer to eat."

Dwalin grunted. "Aye, I suppose this will do."

"Which of it?" I asked tentatively.

He turned to look at me, not quite glaring but certainly not very friendly. "All of it."

I resisted the urge to sigh. Down the hall I heard the doorbell ring again. Awesome, now the fun could really start.

"That'll be the door," Dwalin informed me, a touch patronizing.

"Yes, yes." I shot back already heading down the hall. "Take what you'd like."

The second time I opened the door was the second time I laid my eyes on a dwarf but this one was not at all what I expected.

Unlike Dwalin, this dwarf was closer to my height and much more like what I imagined a dwarf would look like. This one had a long white beard and short fuzzy hair. Instead of the warrior gear Dwalin was wearing, this one wore a long red coat with no sign of weapons.

And he was smiling. Thank God.

"Balin," The dwarf introduced himself with a short bow, "At your service."

I didn't bother to hide the relief in my voice. "Bilbo Baggins at yours."

I stepped aside to let Balin through, gaining a nod of thanks from the dwarf as he passed.

"Am I late," Balin asked me after I had shut the door.

"Not at all," I assured him then paused, Dwalin's reaction firmly in mind. "If you'd like I could take your coat for you."

Balin look a bit surprised by my offer but not displeased. "That would be most kind of you Master Baggins, thank you."

He removed his coat and tossed it into my arms and I tried not to let my surprise show at how heavy it was. He probably wasn't weaponless after all.

"One of you companions," I said to Balin as I turned towards the lounge, "Is down the hall a ways. He can get you settled with some food I'm sure." Provided there would be any left. Dwalin didn't strike me as the kind of guy with much sense of dining decorum.

"Very well, Master Baggins." I heard from behind me. A few moments later, after I had hung Balin's coat over one of the chairs, I heard the distinct call of, "Evening brother!"

You have got to be joking.

Maybe it was meant more as a slang greeting like bro? No way were those two related.

I had just rounded the corner in time to see the two headbutt. God, dwarves were weird.

The two disappeared into the pantry, talking as if they hadn't seen one another in years. And maybe they hadn't. I had to roll my eyes as I halfheartedly listened to conversation from where I was setting out plates in the dining room. Had they never heard of blue cheese before?

The two continued on from where they were and I had just pulled out the silverware set, wondering if they would even bother to use it, when the doorbell rang again.

It was with more curiosity than anything that I traveled down the hall a third time. I wondered what this new dwarf would be like. Maybe they had piercings? Or a wooden peg leg?

Opening the door I saw not one dwarf but two. Interesting.

They were both young. At least they looked young, younger than the two dwarves raiding Bilbo's pantry at any rate. The one on the left had an impressive mane of blonde hair, a short full beard and a braided mustache. The one on the right, in contrast, had dark almost black hair that looked finer that the other dwarves that I had met. And this one's beard was hardly more than stubble.

"Good evening," I said in what I hoped was a friendly voice.

I was rewarded with a beaming smile from the dark haired one.

"Fili," the blonde introduced.

"And Kili," added the other.

And together with a bow they chorused, "At your service."

I couldn't help but be amused. "Bilbo Baggins at yours."

"Oh, good," Kili said with relief, "We are at the right place. We're not late are we? Only we'd bet Nori we could get here before him and his brothers."

I stepped aside allowing them in, pushing past them to pull the door closed.

"No one named Nori is here yet," I assure them as they moved deeper into the house.

"Excellent," Kili enthused. "It's nice this place."

"Thank you," I said, eyeing Fili as he began to disarm himself. Over my dead body was I going to carry all those weapons, even the short distance to the lounge.

"You can put your thing in here," I told him, walking to the lounge's doorway and gesturing.

Fili nodded, amiable enough, moving towards where I had pointed.

I turned around to make sure Kili had heard as well and was shocked to see him scraping mud off his boot using the edge of one of Bilbo's chests.

Oh, hell no.

"Are you serious?" I demanded incredulously.

Kili started and looked up at me, his foot still halfway through the motion.

I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my voice level. "I don't know how dwarves typically behave in others' homes but I consider it a great offence that you treat my belongings like that."

Kili looked less startled and more worried. "Mr. Boggins, I-"

"He didn't mean to offend, Mr. Baggins." Fili interrupted smoothly, coming up from behind me.

I curled my fists in quickly before forcing my hands to relax. "I'm sure." Turning away from them, I moved down the hallway deeper into the house. "The others are this way. I'm going to find something to clean that off, if you'll excuse me."

I didn't bother to turn around as I walked past where the two older dwarves still were, only gesturing to the dining room as I passed. I moved on to the farthest hall and veering a sharp right into Bilbo's storage room. Pulling open the top drawer of the first dresser I was relieved to see a long line of neatly folded dishcloths. I grabbed one and headed back out into the hallway just in time to see Fili and Kili turn into the kitchen.

Loud greetings came from their direction as I headed down the little hallway that lead into Bilbo's bedroom, remembering that I had seen a little pitcher of water on Bilbo's nightstand when I had been exploring earlier in the day.

With the pitcher in one hand and the dishcloth in another I began my walk back to the front hall to clean up Kili's mess until something caught my eye. In my peripheral vision I found four dwarves all frozen guiltily from where they were trying to move Bilbo's dining room table to who-knows-where.

We all stared at each other for a moment or two before finally Balin said, "We won't fit in here Master Baggins, not all of us. We thought perhaps to move out into the hall. I hope you don't mind."

I debated whether or not to roll my eyes. Finally I settled on, "Don't let me stop you," and then continued on my way.

I had just knelt before the little muddy chest wondering if I should have brought another dishcloth with me when the doorbell rang again.

Oh, God, what now. I really did not want anything more to deal with.

I could hear more than one voice arguing through the wood of the door. Grabbing hold of the latch I took a deep breath and pulled it open once more. Then I promptly scrambled back as a veritable waterfall of dwarves spilled around me.

Lovely.

The dwarves all seemed to move at once as they tried to push themselves off the floor and each other. And standing outside, head slightly bent as he watched the dwarves try to right themselves, was Gandalf.

He smiled. "Good evening, Bilbo."

"Good evening," I answered automatically, trying to count how many dwarves had just arrived before giving up. I didn't really care at that point.

"If you could all," I said, raising my voice so as to be heard above the squabbling dwarves, "leave your things across the hall, I would appreciate it. The others are further down the left hall when you're ready."

They all seemed to have heard me as they all passed by me in a flurry of "good evenings" and "thank you for having us" and trying to shove each other out of the way.

I watched as they all deposited their things and pressed further down the hallway to where I could see the dining table had been set up.

As the dwarves greeted each other uproariously, I sighed and turned to Gandalf.

He came to stand beside me. We both watched the dwarves move in and out of the different rooms grabbing any kind of furniture to use as chairs and piling more food on the table. "An interesting bunch, if not a little rough around the edges."

I smiled wryly. That was putting it mildly. "A little warning next time would be nice, Gandalf."

Gandalf's eyes crinkled with laughter. "My dear Laura, where would the fun in that be?"

* * *

A dinner with dwarves was nothing if not an experience. Bodies were pressed together in order to fit them all around the table, food was thrown haphazardly at one another with instructions of "Try this" or "Tell me what you think of that". But for all of their mess and noise, the dwarves were surprisingly clean when it came to their beards. Watching from the doorway I could see that even though they would throw food at one another, they never aimed for beards and if they happened to take a bite then they were careful to not spill on themselves.

It was a pretty impressive sight to be honest. But not impressive enough for me to want to join in, though Gandalf seemed to be enjoying himself well enough amidst the chaos. As they were eating, I began opening as many windows around Bag End as I was able to reach. Clean or not, that many bodies did not smell like daisies. Once finished with that chore, I stuck to the edge of the pack enjoying the chamomile tea Dori had abandoned in favor of wine. At least I'm pretty sure it was Dori or maybe it was Nori. Their names were going to be a source of headaches I had no doubt.

Deciding I had had enough dwarves for the moment, I moved further down the hall away from the noise. With a sigh, I raised my teacup and took a long draw. They were just too much. This was all too much.

"My dear Laura," A voice said from behind me, making me jump. "Whatever is the matter?"

"Nothing," I answered automatically. "Nothing at all, they're just- they're just."

Gandalf looked over his shoulder to where the dwarves were now participating in a belching contest. "I think they're quite a merry gathering."

I sighed. "Yes, of course they are Gandalf. That's not the problem. They're just too much of, well, everything."

Noise. Warmth. Energy.

Gandalf turned back to me, eyes bright with interest. "Did you not have any siblings growing up, Laura? Or cousins?"

"No." I snapped. "I was an only child."

It wasn't as if my parents stayed together long enough for another kid anyway.

"Ah," Gandalf said in understanding. "I see. Well, you will grow fond of them I'm sure."

I eyed him. Yeah, right. "I'm sure. Is this all of them then?" I honestly had not bothered to count.

Gandalf shook his head. "No there is one more yet to arrive. The leader of this company as a matter of fact. But do not fear. He will come."

"That was not my fear at all, actually." I shot back, gamely. "More like I'm concerned whether there will be enough food left for me."

Gandalf chuckled. "You would not think me so cruel would you? I have gathered you a plate and hidden it in Bilbo's study."

"Thank you," I said, surprised. "That was kind of you. I-"

"Excuse me," A wary voice came from behind me. It was Ori, the only dwarf in the group that looked to be anywhere near Fili and Kili's age. "I'm sorry to interrupt but what should I do with my plate?"

Before I could respond Fili came up from behind me and said, "Here, Ori, give it to me."

He then snatched the plate out of Ori's hand and threw the plate across the room. Kili caught it one handed before proceeding to copy his brother and throw it himself.

I couldn't decide, just then, whether to get angry or anxious. Those were not my dishes. This was not my house. I couldn't let them just do that to Bilbo's things.

But soon the other dwarves joined in, tossing plates this way and that, and some began to sing about how much I hated broken dishes and blunt silverware.

Well, they weren't exactly off the mark.

But as they continued with their song, I couldn't help but watch in awe. Not only were they not dropping a single piece of dinnerware they were also keeping in time with one another. At the end of the song, they all stepped away from the table with a flourish, revealing neatly stacked dishes and silverware.

For the first time since my arrival to this place, I smiled.

"Alright," I told them with fake reluctance. "That was quite impressive."

They burst into cheers and laughter. The one with the hat, Bofur I think his name was, even leaned over to pat me on the back.

Dwarves.

Then there was a knock at the door and everyone fell silent.

From behind me Gandalf said ominously, "He is here."

Excellent, I wanted to get this over with.

Opening the door, with hope that it would be the final time, I did not know what to expect. But this is what I got: A tall dark haired dwarf with strong features and a mouth that looked like he had no idea how to smile.

The last dwarf did not even bother to look in my direction but instead over my shoulder.

"Gandalf," The dwarf said, voice deep and strong.

I rushed to move out of the way as the dwarf stepped inside.

"I thought you said this place would be easy to find," The dwarf continued, moving closer to where the rest of the group had gathered in the hall. "I lost my way. Twice."

And this was meant to be our leader? He had already gotten lost not one but two times? How reassuring.

"I would have not found this place at all if not for the mark on the door." He finished, removing his cloak.

I looked over at Gandalf, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Terrible guests were one thing but vandalism? Not cool.

Gandalf wisely did not meet my eyes. Instead he turned to the new dwarf and gestured at me. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of this company: Thorin Oakenshield."

For the first time since he arrived Thorin looked at me. Judging by the look on his face he did not particularly like what he saw.

Tough luck.

Thorin stepped towards me, giving me a once over that was very reminiscent of Dwalin's. "So, this is the hobbit."

I decided that I did not like his tone and I was strongly inclined to dislike this Thorin as well.

"Tell me, Master Baggins," Thorin said, circling me, "Have you done much fighting? Axe or sword: what is your weapon of choice?"

Yes, did not like this one.

"My sparkling wit," I snapped, scowling.

A few chuckles came from where the other dwarves stood but Thorin scowled back, unimpressed. "As I thought. You seem to be more of a grocer than a burglar."

A burglar?

The dwarves laughed as I resisted the urge to growl. Instead I ground out, "How very kind of you to say."

Thorin did not even bother to reply. Gandalf, likely sensing my hostility, beckoned Thorin towards the dining table.

"Bilbo," Gandalf said over his shoulder, "Would you be so kind as to find something for Thorin?"

Only if I could spit in it, I wanted to say.

But Gandalf had already disappeared with the others, leaving me with little choice.

With a sigh, I skirted around the dwarves as they all reseated themselves with Thorin notably at the head of the table.

Laying my eyes on Bilbo's now decimated pantry, I wanted to throw them all out. How rude.

I stood there for a moment wondering whether or not I could get away with not feeding Thorin. I came to the conclusion that though that might have made me quite happy, I couldn't. I was not Laura Aldine here but Bilbo Baggins and I had to do what I could to protect his home and his name.

I slowly turned and retreated to Bilbo's study and eyed what was my own plate, covered thoughtfully with a table napkin, forlornly. That dwarf better keep his insults to a minimum after this.

Upon reentering the main hall I found that Thorin had a tankard in hand and the dwarves were now speaking quietly about something called the Iron Hills.

Setting the plate in front of Thorin without a word, I stood in the doorway next to Gandalf and listened.

"They will not come." Thorin told the other dwarves. The rest grumbled, shooting looks to one another in dismay. "They say that this quest is ours and ours alone. And without the Arkenstone in our possession, I fear they are right."

I narrowed my eyes. Now we were getting somewhere.

I could hear Gandalf coming up behind me. A soft golden light in my peripheral vision meant that he had likely fetched a candle. With his other hand, Gandalf reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn-looking piece of parchment. Gandalf set the candle at Thorin's right and then unfolded the paper onto the table.

It was a map. A beautifully drawn map that I belatedly recognized was of Middle Earth if the maps in Bilbo's study were anything to go off of.

"Far to the East, beyond ranges and woodlands lies a single solitary peak." Gandalf said, turning to me.

He pointed at what was obviously a depiction of a mountain. I looked over Thorin's shoulder, trying to identify the writing but it was not a language I recognized.

I glanced over at him and shrugged.

Gandalf sighed and then finished, "The Lonely Mountain."

"Aye," chimed in one of the dwarves. He had a remarkable bushy red beard. I was quite sure he was one of the –oin brothers. "Oin has read the portents and the portents say-"

The other dwarves were now rolling their eyes. Not particularly reassuring.

"-it is time!" Gloin, I remembered his name quickly, finished with relish.

Oin jumped in now. "Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain. As it was foretold when the birds of yore return to Erebor the reign of the beast will end."

Beast? That sounded terrifying.

"I'm sorry," I interjected hurriedly and the dwarves all turned to look at me. "What beast?"

"Smaug the Terrible!" Bofur said plainly enough, "Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age."

What.

"Airborne fire-breather," Bofur continued blithely. "Teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks. Extremely fond of precious metals," At my blank look he elaborated. "A dragon, lad."

_What._

"Gandalf," I said, letting my temper flare. It was preferable to the clawing terror in my chest. I whirled around to look at him. "Is this true?"

Judging by the look on his face, it was.

"Outside," I said, voice shaking with fury. "Outside right now, Gandalf."

"My dear," Gandalf started, placating.

I threw him a dirty look. "Outside. Now."

And without wasting another moment I turned on my heel and stormed down the hall to the huge green door. Pulling it open angrily, I marched out into Bilbo's garden and waited.

Gandalf, to his credit, did not dawdle. Only a few moments later he was pulling the door shut behind him.

As soon as I heard the latch click, I spun around and shouted, "Are you out of your mind!"

Gandalf looked disgruntled but I didn't let him respond. "Or did you never have one to begin with?"

In my fury I did not realize right away that I had angered Gandalf, not until he seemed to grow and loomed over me even more than usual. When had he gotten so close? The sky seemed to darken and the hills around us had grown quiet.

"Watch your tongue!" Gandalf commanded in voice like nothing I had ever heard, "Lest you lose it entirely!"

I took a deep breath, shrinking back a little. He was even scarier than Dwalin like this.

"Gandalf," I started quietly. When I looked back up he was the Gandalf I had first met: old, calm, and watchful. "Gandalf, I think you have all of this wrong. I can't- I can't fight a dragon!"

Gandalf sighed. "That is not what I would ever ask of you."

"Then why do you need me?" I asked. "Those dwarves, they all seem capable and strong. I'm just, I'm just me."

There was a moment where neither of us spoke. I could feel my eyes filling with tears. "I want to go home, Gandalf."

Gandalf's voice quieted. "You are exactly what this company needs. Not as a warrior but as Laura. You are now a hobbit. Hobbits are skilled at remaining unseen if they wish, they have a certain magic about them. I have no doubt this magic now extends to you."

I sighed. "So you want me to steal from this dragon? I don't think that will end nearly as well as you seem to believe."

Gandalf actually laughed. "I do not ask for you to steal all the gold of Erebor! Goodness, no. Can you imagine the fourteen of you carrying all of that gold on your backs?"

I cracked a smile. "So if not this gold of Erebor, then what?"

"Were you not listening, Laura?" Gandalf tsk'ed. "You must find the Arkenstone."

I frowned. That wasn't a lot to go on. "And the Arkenstone is what?"

"The heart of the mountain a great jewel that symbolizes Thorin's right to rule. Not just Erebor but to lead the seven dwarf kingdoms," Gandalf explained patiently.

Wait, wait.

"Thorin is a king?" I demanded incredulously. Some king.

Gandalf smiled. "No. He is a prince, truthfully. But should we be successful in this endeavor then that will change."

I frowned, unsure. "He certainly doesn't act like a prince."

Gandalf's eyes flitted to my right to one of the open windows in the ground. I followed his gaze just in time to catch a few heads of hair duck away from the window.

Nosy shits.

"You must keep in mind, my dear," Gandalf said patiently, "That these dwarves have seen more trouble than anyone deserves. They were forced from their home by a dragon and then shunned by almost every settlement they came across until the eventually settled in the Blue Mountains."

My eyes returned to Gandalf. "What do you mean shunned?"

Gandalf sighed, face somber. "None would help them. They are thought by many to be beggars and thieves. And though dwarves can be greedy, selfish, and prideful they are not nearly as bad as all that."

I sucked in a breath. "How awful."

Gandalf hummed in agreement. "It was quite generous of you to let them all into your home. They likely will never say so but it is a relief to be guests to someone who does not watch them as if they are going to make off with the silverware every time one's back is turned."

"You hardly gave me a choice," I shot back, wry. "But of course. Who am I to deny someone a meal? Especially with all that food lying around, I don't know what Bilbo was thinking when he bought so much."

Gandalf smiled fondly. "Nothing brings hobbits more joy, I have found, than good food, a warm hearth, and good company."

I couldn't help but smile back. Those were all good things to cherish.

We stood in silence for a few more moments before I asked, "So no fighting dragons? You swear?"

Gandalf held out another folded piece of parchment. I took it, gingerly unfolding it only for it to reach the ground in its entirety.

"What is this?" I asked, eyeing the unfamiliar writing warily.

Gandalf gently tapped the edge of the document. "Your contract, of course. Dwarves are quite thorough when it comes to employment."

I glanced over the paper with a detached interest. There certainly was a lot of writing. "And it says what exactly?"

"In summary?" Gandalf asked me. I nodded. "That you will act as the company's burglar on this quest and at its end, should you be successful, you will be rewarded one-fourteenth of the total profit."

I could feel my eyebrows rise in disbelief. That was very little put into a lot of words. "And that's all?"

Gandalf harrumphed but then said, "There may be a few things related to company disagreements and funeral arrangements. But I assure you neither will be necessary. I will do everything in my power to ensure your safety."

I was a little taken back by the funeral arrangements clause but none of it sounded unreasonable if there really was a dragon at the end of our journey. And I really didn't have much choice. I needed Gandalf's help and in return he needed mine on this adventure.

I could only hope that everything would work out in the end.

I sighed, resigned. "Do you have a pen by chance?"

Gandalf, to his credit, did not react to my agreement. Instead, he pulled a quill and inkpot from his sleeve.

I looked down at the contract and found the blank space beneath two other signatures. This was it. I walked up to the green door, using it as a makeshift writing surface. Pressing the pen against the parchment I took a deep breath. And then a thought occurred to me.

I turned back to Gandalf and asked quietly, "Should I sign it as Laura? Or as Bilbo?"

Gandalf watch me, eyes filled with sympathy. "As Bilbo, if you please."

"Right," I agreed. And then before I could lose my nerve I did just that: Bilbo Baggins. In sloppy, blotchy English.

I lifted the contract up so Gandalf could see my signature. "Is this all right?"

"Yes," Gandalf said softly. "Yes, that is good enough."

Letting out a deep breath, I nodded. I did my best to fold the contract back up into the shape it was given to me in but knew that I had done it wrong. I was exhausted, suddenly, and all I wanted was to go to bed. I reached over and pushed open the door, stepping back inside. Once we had both entered the hall, Gandalf turned to me.

"I am afraid I must take my leave shortly, " Gandalf said, and he did look apologetic. "I have rented a room at the inn and will meet with the rest of you come morning. But first I must have a word with Thorin and you must return your contract."

I nodded tiredly, watching Gandalf move towards the parlor, murmur a few words to its occupants, and returned with Thorin only to walk straight back out into the garden.

Shutting the door after them, I stopped in the hallway and peered into the parlor where Balin and Dwalin were standing. They did not see me at first until Balin looked had turned his head, presumably to look out the window, and caught my eye.

"Master Baggins," Balin greeted with a nod.

I nodded back, moving forward and extending the contract for him to take, "Mr. Balin."

Balin took the contract and unfolded it quickly as if he did it every day. For all I knew he might have. His expression brightened at the sight of my signature. He exchanged a look with Dwalin whose face was unreadable. "Master Baggins this is wonderful news."

"I'm glad one of us thinks so," I answered wearily. Addressing them both I asked, "Will your company be staying the night?"

The two shared a surprised look before Dwalin spoke. "That was what Gandalf promised us." He paused, eyebrows furrowed at the blank look on my face. "He did not tell you?"

"As you might have guessed, Gandalf has not told me a great many things." I shook my head. "But it's no problem. I will leave bedding on the dining table and you all can take what you need. It won't be much, I'm afraid, but it's better than nothing."

Dwalin, for the first time, looked at me with no hint of a scowl but instead something close to wary curiosity.

Balin jumped in, smiling at me. "That would be more than sufficient. Thank you."

I nodded. "Of course. Good night."

And without waiting for a response, I turned and made my way to the storage room where I had seen bed linens in my exploration earlier in the day.

Arms full of sheets and blankets I stumbled down the hall and collapsed against the dining table. Depositing my first load on the table's surface I turned only to nearly collide with one of the dwarves. It was one from the group that had collapsed into Bilbo's entry hall. This one, if I remembered from my observations at dinner, did not speak but used hand gestures to communicate. He also had an axe blade stuck in his forehead.

"Oh hello," I acknowledged him. He grunted in response. "Would you mind lending me a hand?"

A grunt again but this time it was accompanied with a nod. Together we made quick work of sorting through Bilbo's things. Though Bifur, if I remembered his name right, would sometimes slow down if not stop entirely, eyes going hazy and unfocused. But soon enough he would be back at searching, though whether or not he could recall what we were searching for was unclear. I appreciate the help nonetheless.

Once the bedding had been sorted and I had bid goodnight to Bifur who responded in kind with a simple enough hand gesture. Down the hall I could see all the dwarves gathered around Thorin who was speaking to them all too quiet for me to hear.

Deciding I probably didn't want to know, I finally found myself back in Bilbo's bedroom. The room where all of this madness had started.

I did not bother changing into night clothes, choosing instead to simply remove my suspenders before crawling under Bilbo's sheets. I had no interest in fumbling around in the dark and I was too tired to try and find a candle. This was good enough.

Tomorrow was when everything really started, I thought. I wasn't sure if I was ready. If I would ever be ready.

But soon enough my eyelids began to droop and as I drifted to sleep I could have sworn that I heard singing.

_Far over the Misty Mountains cold_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old_

_We must away ere break of day,_

_To find our long-forgotten gold._

Yes, ere break of day tomorrow my adventure would truly begin. For better or worse.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** I just want to thank those of you who took the time to review, favorite, and follow this fic. I hope this chapter does not disappoint. I have taken some liberties of incorporating parts of the book into this fic, though the plot will mostly be following the movieverse. Please feel free to let me know what you think about characterization, pacing, grammar/spelling, etc. I'd love to hear from you.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing except Laura.

* * *

As it turned out, it was long after the break of day when I woke up.

It was my own fault. I had been conditioned to wake up to the sound of an alarm clock and only an alarm clock. Naturally no such thing existed in Middle Earth and so I was left to wake up on my own. But instead of rolling out of bed, as was my habit, I stayed where I was.

Because I had hoped, desperately, that the previous night was only a very bizarre dream. But it was very real, I realized as I stared up at Bilbo Baggins' ceiling, under Bilbo Baggins' sheets, in Bilbo Baggins' body.

Eventually, though, I admitted that staying in bed would not fix my problem no matter how comfortable it was. I had a contract to abide by and I would not break it, not on my first day. So, I rolled out of Bilbo's bed, letting the harsh thump of my body against the floor wake me up the rest of the way. I shuffled down the hall to the bathroom where I washed my face and urinated.

Relieving one's self standing up? Not as easy as I thought it would be. In fact it was quite unsettling. I prayed to the Valar or whoever was listening as I washed my hands that I would never have to experience a hard-on. Having a penis is one thing, having to deal with _that_ was something else entirely. And it was something I would do everything in my power to avoid.

Satisfied that my hygiene was in order, I returned to the bedroom to dress. Unsure of which clothes would be best suited for a hiking trip, I decided to play it safe and put on layers including a dark red jacket, a forest green vest, and oddly hemmed cream colored pants.

Yeah, I was as prepared as I would ever be.

As I exited Bilbo's bedroom for the final time I paused and listened. It was silent in the house. No snores, no voices, nothing.

I frowned. I could have sworn that the dwarves had spent the night.

Pressing forward down the hall, I peeked into every room I passed. They were all clean, as if there had been no guests in the first place. And there were no dwarves either.

Well this was not good. How was I supposed to travel with them if they just up and ditch me?

And then I spotted the piece of paper lying innocently on the kitchen table.

_To Burglar Baggins, _it read, _for your hospitality our sincerest thanks. Thinking it unnecessary to disturb your esteemed repose, we have proceeded in advance to make requisite preparations and shall await your arrival at the Green Dragon Inn at 11 a.m. sharp. We trust that you will be punctual_. _Yours sincerely, Thorin and Company_.

The Green Dragon Inn? Where the hell was that?

I was shook from my musings by a knock at the door. Hurrying down the hall, I pulled it open to find Gandalf on the other side, staff and hat in place.

"Laura," Gandalf said without preamble, "Where is your bag? You are to be very late!"

I started. "What? What time is it?"

"Half past ten," Gandalf told me, "Get your things quickly. Hurry! Go!"

I did as I was told, rushing back inside to one of the chests on the far side of the wall. Pushing it open I grabbed hold of the bag I had packed the day previous, making sure that the sleeping mat was still attached. Wrapping my hand around the door handle as I passed, I pulled the large round door shut behind me and looked up at Gandalf.

"Are we really going to be late?" I asked anxiously, pulling the straps of my travelling pack over my shoulders.

Gandalf looked almost amused. "Yes, but they cannot leave without either of us. And I knew you would not know the way."

I smiled at him, holding the front gate open for him as he passed through. Together we began to walk down the path I had seen him disappear on last night.

"That's almost nice of you." I told him.

Gandalf scoffed. "Wizards are never nice."

I didn't buy that for a second.

As we traveled together deeper into town, I couldn't help but stare at those we passed: farmers pushing wheelbarrows, pretty curly haired women with baskets, small children calling to each other across the road. It was lovely, really. I could see why Gandalf liked these people so much.

Soon enough the Green Dragon Inn came into view. It was easily the biggest, if not one of the few, actual buildings in town. And in front of it, already mounted on ponies, were the dwarves.

"Good morning!" Balin called from atop his pony, looking relieved.

Thorin, next to him, looked annoyed. "You are late."

I opened my mouth ready to apologize, when Gandalf said, "A wizard is never late. Nor is he early. We arrive precisely when we need to."

I shot Gandalf a grateful look. That sounded pretty good, actually, but Thorin remained unimpressed. In fact he looked even more aggravated. "Get Master Baggins a pony," He ordered, "And let us be on our way."

Dwalin dismounted immediately and disappeared among the ponies only to push through the herd with a small creature in tow. He led it to a stop in front of me and then gave me an expectant look.

I hesitated, having never ridden a horse before except once at a county fair as a child. I had a feeling this news would not be well received so instead I asked, "Does it have a name?"

Dwalin looked surly and out of the corner of my eye I saw Thorin turn his pony away.

"Myrtle," Dwalin answered, frowning.

Myrtle? That was adorable.

It took me two tries to mount Myrtle but I did so without help, having waved Dwalin away. I needed to do this on my own.

And finally we were off.

After, perhaps, the first three hours of observing the scenery the ride grew boring for all of us. The dwarves were quite good at entertaining themselves by telling stories and singing songs that I gladly listened to.

But I had my own problems to deal with. Bilbo, as it turned out, was allergic to horses. As a result, I was miserably trying not to sneeze every thirty seconds realizing mournfully that I was without a handkerchief.

Gandalf, at least, was kind enough to ride beside me and distract me with more history of Middle Earth and stories of his own adventures.

As the ride progressed I found out with dismay that we would not stop until nightfall. We ate lunch on the road, rations being tossed to one another from the large red-headed dwarf's bags.

And though one might think stopping for camp would be a blessing, but it was actually a curse in disguise. Riding a horse for ten hours a day without stopping would be uncomfortable for even the most experienced of riders. And for an amateur like me it was downright painful. I hissed to myself after dismounting, leaning against Myrtle's side. This was the _worst_.

"Alright there Mr. Baggins?" Bofur asked, stopping next to me and dismounting as well. I noticed sourly that he didn't seem to have any problems.

"Yes," I replied, proud that my voice did not betray my pain. "Thank you. And please call me Bilbo, all of you can as far as I'm concerned."

Bofur looked pleased. "Of course, Bilbo, as you like." He paused. "Is this the first time you've ridden?"

I let out a huff. "Is it so obvious?"

"Well," Bofur said thoughtfully, "Only a little. They way you're using your pony to prop yourself up is a right give away."

Huh.

"Thank you," I told him. "I'll be sure to push off in a moment."

Bofur grinned back. "As you say, Bilbo."

I was then mercifully left alone in my agony until Dwalin came over and gruffly demanded I move so he could remove Myrtle's saddle.

Reluctantly, I obliged.

It was not until after dinner when we all pulled out our sleeping mats, which Gandalf informed me were called bedrolls, and settled in for the night.

It was explained to me by Balin at dinner that the company would take shifts keeping watch, three shifts total in one night. We would also be expected to pull our weight around camp and that I would be expected to do my part. I agreed, it sounded fair enough.

I was grateful that I did not have to keep watch that first night but I may as well have. The night we all slept in Bag End I at least had a wall and a hall between me and thirteen snoring dwarves but this time there was no escape. It was like trying to sleep through a thunderstorm. The next morning I woke up heavy-eyed and cranky. I had gotten maybe two hours of sleep the night before, thanks to the dwarves ability to occasionally let out an extra-long and loud snort.

It was the only the second day and I had decided that I was not fond of this adventure.

Blearily I mounted Myrtle after we had eaten and packed away our things for the day's ride. I was expecting the second day of riding to be much like the first. Gandalf would tell me stories and I would stare at the flora around us.

I was partially right. In the morning I did just that but after lunch Gandalf was called to the front by Thorin and Balin, leaving me alone at the end of our procession. It wasn't so bad. Myrtle was a docile pony perfectly willing to follow her brethren with minimal input from me. And so I let Myrtle do as she liked until halfway through the afternoon, as the sun shone warmly overhead, one of the other ponies fell back to walk next to mine.

I glanced over from where I had been watching the trees pass by to see which dwarf it was.

Kili stared back at me, clearly uncomfortable.

"Hello," I said, amiably.

Kili dipped his head in greeting before quickly saying, "Mr. Baggins, I want to apologize."

I could only stare in surprise. In front of us I could see Fili watching over his shoulder.

"You do?" I asked curiously.

Kili winced. "Yes, it was very rude of me to use your belongings without asking, Mr. Baggins, especially when I did not even know what it was for. Or what it meant to you. I did not mean to upset you and I hope you can forgive me."

I watched him, shocked. His eyes may have been downcast but I could tell he was being sincere.

"You are of course forgiven, Kili." I fought back a smile when Kili's head snapped up hopefully.

"Truly, Mr. Baggins?" He asked tentatively.

"Yes." I replied firmly. "I am very happy to put that matter behind us if you are. And do call me Bilbo."

Kili looked like he was ready to lunge across the distance between our ponies to hug me. I was grateful when he restrained from doing so.

Instead he continued to beam at me and launched into the story of when he and Fili had tried to set up their first rabbit trap and wound up trapping a remarkably rabid squirrel instead. Fili joined us halfway through the story, inserting amusing commentary any time Kili drew breath. It was that afternoon that I learned Fili and Kili were Thorin's nephews, those poor souls, making them princes by blood. Fili was, in fact, Thorin's heir. But they were not much like their uncle at all. They were quick to laugh and had story after story to tell.

It was a good way to spend the afternoon.

That evening, however I was still sore and did not sleep well. Homesickness washed over me the next morning and tears gathered at the corner of my eyes as we saddled the horses. I reaffirmed my opinion of the adventure despite the pleasant afternoon I had the day before.

It was not until noon on the third day that we finally reached a town.

The town was called Bree, heavily walled and vaguely sinister. It was the last settlement of Men in the West, Gandalf said, and charming enough in its own way. It was decided by the dwarves that we would not stop, no matter how many protests I made as we put the town behind us.

Eventually Thorin snapped at me, "This quest is meant to be one of stealth, Master Baggins. How do you think it would look if thirteen dwarves, a man, and a hobbit were to pass through?"

I scowled back, irritated by his tone. "About the same as through Hobbiton, I imagine. You had no problem passing through there."

"Hobbiton and Bree are not the same," Thorin told me, eyes dark. "Hobbiton's inhabitants would hardly be able to take on one dwarf-child let alone thirteen warriors."

"Would you like to put that to the test," I snarled, offended on behalf of Bilbo Baggins' homeland. Quickly Gandalf put an end to our fight with a sharp reprimand for me and a request for Thorin to take the lead at the front of the company once more. Thorin had, unnoticed by either of us, fallen back in order to argue with me properly.

I stayed angry for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. It was for the best that I had been given watch that night as I would hardly have been able to sleep anyway.

A week passed after that with very little excitement, save for the change in landscape. As each day went by the rolling hills became rockier and more jutting, the forests thicker but divided by large sweeping grasslands peppered with huge rocks.

Every few days Fili and Kili would peel away from Thorin's side to ride back with Gandalf and I to tell their own stories and sing us songs their people had picked up on their travels. Ori, the other young dwarf, rode with us, too, though rarely. Often he tried to ask Gandalf as many questions as he could before Gandalf would become irritated. Sometimes Ori would look at me like he would like to ask me just as many questions but every time he opened his mouth Gandalf would dissuade him either asking him to deliver a message to front of the Company or with a sharp glare, for which I was immensely grateful. I knew very little of Bilbo Baggins or even hobbits in general and anything I did know was thanks to Gandalf. I was a terrible resource.

We had set up camp one night up high on one these new hills, the fire crackling merrily and food having been eaten with gusto.

After dinner I found that I still had my apple left, small and tart because of the time of year, and I knew what I would do with it.

Standing up and moving away from the fire I smiled warmly at Gandalf as I passed, who was smoking his pipe removed from the group. Arriving at my destination, I reached out a hand to pet Myrtle's wiry mane.

"Hello, girl," I said fondly, pulling out the apple from my pocket. "Here you are, our secret, just like before okay?"

I held out the apple, leaving my fingers flat the way Bofur had taught me to when he caught me feeding Myrtle for the first time several days ago. Myrtle gamely took the apple in one bite, crunching loudly.

"There we are," I coaxed her happily. I had grown quite attached to Myrtle in the few weeks I had ridden her.

And then a scream came from the wilderness.

I jolted in fear and next to me Myrtle's ears picked up. Nervously the ponies shifted. Hurriedly, I retreated back towards the fire and Gandalf.

"What was that?" I demanded urgently, turning to look up at the wizard.

I must have been louder than I meant to be because Kili was the one who answered me.

"Orcs," Kili said solemnly.

Orcs? I turned back to Gandalf in fear. He had never told me about orcs.

"Throat cutters," Fili informed me calmly. "There'll be dozens of them out there. The Lowlands are crawling with them."

Oh, God.

"They strike in the wee small hours of the morning," Kili continued, voice grave. But I could see the mischief in his eyes the little shit, "When everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet no screams, just lots of blood."

Okay. Great.

Kili turned to his brother, grinning. Yeah, definitely mischief.

"You think that's funny?" Thorin demanded, stepping closer to the fire. "You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

The grins fell of their faces immediately.

"We didn't mean anything by it," said Kili, voice subdued.

"No you didn't." Thorin agreed angrily. He began to move away. "You know nothing of the world."

Balin moved in closer to the boys. "Don't mind him, lads. Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs."

And so that night another story was told, much different from any I had heard before. Balin spoke of a battle called "Azanulbizar" that occurred shortly after Erebor had fallen to the dragon. The dwarves, in grief, tried to reclaim a different homeland but what they received instead was death and despair. Many were killed that day, orc and dwarf alike, Balin told us. Thorin himself lost his grandfather, brother, and to another extent his father- who had disappeared after the battle. Balin spoke of a pale orc, a white monster that lived only to destroy Thorin's family line and that if there was anyone who could become King of the Mountain it was Thorin.

With these thoughts swirling in my head, I went to sleep that night. I remember thinking, for the first time, that perhaps Thorin wasn't so bad after all for surviving all that he had.

* * *

Three days later, just after we started our ride for the day, it rained. Not sprinkles, not on-and-off showers, but a true torrential downpour. Every layer that I was wearing was soaked and it was likely that my traveling gear was as well.

Not for the last time I decided that this adventure could go jump off a cliff.

"Mr. Gandalf," Dori called plaintively, a few hours after lunch, "Is there nothing you can do about this deluge?"

"It is raining, Master Dwarf," Gandalf called back. "And it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world you should find yourself another wizard."

I perked up for the first time since the downpour started. "And who are they?"

"Who are who?" Gandalf demanded, annoyed.

"The other wizards," I prompted, "How many are there? And what are their names?"

Gandalf was, thankfully, not annoyed enough to ignore my question as he was known to do when we bothered him too much. "There are five of us. The leader of our order is Saruman the White. And there are the two Blues. I've forgotten their names- they left for the East long ago."

"And the fifth?" I asked.

"That would be Radagast the Brown." Gandalf said, sounding almost fond.

I hummed thoughtfully, "And is he a great wizard or is he more like you?"

Gandalf turned his head just enough to glare back at me. I shot him a cheeky grin.

"I think he is a very great wizard in his own way," Gandalf told me, sounding defensive. "He is a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watch in the vast forests in the East and a good thing, too. Evil will look to find a foothold anywhere in this world."

I frowned in thought, remembering Gandalf's lessons. "But I thought you said the Great Evil was defeated long ago."

"So he was," Gandalf agreed, "But where there is good, there is also evil. Where there is light there must also be darkness. There must always be a balance. Ah."

Gandalf stopped, eyes focusing on something in the forest.

"This way, now," He called, urging his horse off the path. "I have found dry shelter for the night."

Gandalf's idea of a shelter was a tree. A giant dead tree with great roots that extended over the ground like a canopy. It looked like it should not still be standing but there it was.

Gandalf turned to me. "Off you go, my dear."

I eyed him suspiciously.

"Is this a joke, wizard?" Thorin demanded, stopping his pony next to mine. "You would ask us to camp beneath this?"

"But of course," Gandalf replied. "We are only an hour or so from halting for the night and continuing on like this is a waste."

"What about bugs," I hissed at the wizard. "No way."

Thorin, to my surprise, said nothing about my protest. But Gandalf did.

"Would you prefer to catch your death?" Gandalf asked, sounding cross.

I did not answer right away which only caused Gandalf to look more irritated. "Well?"

"I'm thinking," I told him. Gandalf sighed.

Coming to the decision that a little dirt and worms was, in fact, better than a terrible cold, I dismounted and moved towards the overhang, sizing it up. Gandalf was right that we could all fit underneath even with our gear though it would be a tight fit.

I could hear Thorin dismount behind me, calling out to the other dwarves that we would stop here for the night.

And so we did. It was a gloomy affair with no songs or stories and very little talking at all. Gandalf had disappeared, I noticed anxiously, and I hoped he would be back soon. After a cold supper, we all decided not to risk getting our bedrolls dirty with mud and instead we would all sleep pressed in close to share body heat. I was not thrilled to have to be in such close proximity to dwarves who had not bathed at all, to my knowledge, since the start of our journey but we had little choice.

Gandalf had not returned by the time we had laid down for sleep but I knew Nori was more than capable of keeping watch on his own. I found myself tucked between Fili and Bofur once it was all said and done. Though I did not appreciate the smell of all those dwarves I had to admit, as I closed my eyes, it was much better than sleeping alone in the rain. I could only hope that the rain would end sometime in the night.

I was wrong.

The next morning I woke to Thorin calling for us all to wake and the sound of hard rainfall. Gandalf, I saw with some relief, had returned during the night and was already standing next to his horse, face shielded by his large grey hat.

It was by mutual agreement that we ate a breakfast of apples and cram on the road, all of us eager to escape the terrible weather.

But we were not so lucky. It continued to rain into the night and was still falling the next morning. By that time we were all in bad tempers and when the rain finally let up that afternoon, clouds finally clearing, our moods improved only a little.

That evening, as our clothes finally started to dry, we spotted a place to camp up one of the hills: a ruin of a farmhouse. Only the blackened frame of the building remained, even the stone chimney had toppled over. But this did not look like it had been cause by time. It looked more like the result of a fire. And maybe something else.

I was uneasy about that place and was not the only one.

"This place is not safe," Gandalf murmured next to me. The dwarves, after receiving direction from Thorin, had begun to dismount and set up camp.

I nodded. It felt too still and empty even for a ruin.

Gandalf marched determinedly to where Thorin was examining the house's frame. If the turning of Thorin's head was any indication, Gandalf was telling Thorin his concerns.

I held my breath, watching. This would either end well or, more likely, with a fight.

Sure enough not more than a minute later Gandalf stormed past us all back down the hill.

"Is everything alright?" I asked warily. "Where are you going?"

"To seek the company of the only one who has any sense," Gandalf declared, not bothering to slow down.

I shifted on my feet, uneasy. Desperately I raised my voice so he could hear me, "Who's that?"

"Myself, Laura!" Gandalf shouted over his shoulder, voice carrying over the hill.

Great.

"Who's Laura?" Kili wondered from further to my right.

I didn't bother to respond, sharing a look with Balin who came up beside me. I had a bad feeling about this.

Thorin apparently did not. "Come on, Bombur," He called impatiently. "We're hungry. Fili, Kili, you keep watch of the horses."

I debated briefly whether to try and persuade Thorin to move on but in the end remained silent. If Gandalf was unable to get Thorin to change his mind there was no way I could. Thorin and I could hardly stand next to each other without squabbling.

As the night carried on, I couldn't shake my feelings of unease. I did not like where we had set up camp. I didn't feel safe.

"Do you think he'll be coming back?" I asked later that night while dinner was being served.

"Who?" Bofur replied, distracted by dishing out bowls of Bombur's stew.

"Gandalf," I said nervously, "He's been gone a long time now."

"He's a wizard," Bofur reminded me, two bowls in hand, "He comes and goes as he chooses."

Well, that was true. But no less worrying.

"Here," Bofur held out the bowls, "Do us a favor and take these to the lads."

I sighed impatiently but agreed. Bofur was right, there was no use fretting. Gandalf would come back only when he wanted to. A bit like a cat, really.

I amused myself with that train of thought as I made my way deeper into the forest where the ponies rested for the night.

After rounding a rather large tree Fili and Kili came into view, their backs to me.

"Boys," I called, approaching them, "Dinner."

They did not reply, which immediately set off a little warning light. Those two, I had learned, could eat a whole cow each and still claim to be hungry.

I stopped in between them, "What's the matter?"

Kili turned to look at me, "We're supposed to be looking after the ponies."

"Only," Fili elaborated, sounding almost nervous, "We've encountered a slight problem."

I turned to look at the ponies and counted them in my head. There were meant to be sixteen. There were, instead, only twelve.

Oh.

Together the three of us made quick work of identifying which ponies were left, stew abandoned.

"Daisy and Bungo are missing," Kili said urgently coming towards me. Fili appeared on my left.

I frowned, unsure. "Myrtle is, too."

We all exchanged panicked looks.

"Should we," I started tentatively, already not liking my idea, "Should we tell Thorin?"

I could imagine his reaction. Lots of yelling was involved.

"No, no," Fili said quickly, "Best not worry him."

Yeah, and I'm sure the punishment those two would likely receive for losing the ponies was not the reason at all.

"Then what should we do?" I asked, eyeing the forest around us. Trees were uprooted and underbrush was flattened. Something big had come through here. I was not particularly excited to find out what.

With a start Fili peered around me, eyes trained on something in the distance. Moving towards where he was looking he said, "Hey, there's a light."

I turned to look. Yes, there sure was. The two dwarves, naturally, started to move towards it but I hesitated. Whatever was there was able to steal four ponies. I did not have any interest in being spotted by what had taken them.

But I couldn't let Fili and Kili, who seemed so young, go by themselves. So I followed.

We crept closer, mindful of where we stepped. Stopping at a fallen tree, we ducked down as a large shadowed figure moved farther ahead. And then I head the voices. There were several and one was laughing.

"What the-" I began, swallowing hard.

"Trolls," Kili told me already hauling himself over the log, Fili close behind.

I winced. Trolls. Why did it have to be trolls?

I followed closely until we halted once more, this time just outside the camp's light. And then I saw my first troll.

There were three of them, actually. All of them tall and round with long arms, stumpy legs, and squashed faces. They were hideous. And they _smelled_, God, I thought the dwarves were bad but I could smell these creatures even from our distance.

How Fili and Kili did not see them take not one but several ponies I would never know.

I scanned their camp and then gasped, "They've got Myrtle!"

Bungo and Daisy as well, and even a fourth pony that I could see was Thorin's Minty.

This was not good.

"I think they're gonna eat them," I hissed at the other two, taking note of the huge cooking pot over the fire. "We have to do something!"

"Yes," Kili agreed, turning to me eagerly, "Yes, you should."

What.

"Mountain trolls are slow and stupid," Kili told me quickly, "And you're so small and quick they'll never see you!"

Small? Yes. Quick? No.

"That's ridiculous." I whispered back, frustrated, "How can I free them?"

"Here," Fili reached into his coat and pulled out a small knife, one of the many I had seen at Bag End that first night. "Take this. Don't worry we'll be right behind you."

I accepted the knife doubtfully as Kili pushed me closer to the makeshift pen where the ponies were being held.

Kili leaned close, "If you run into trouble just hoot twice like a barn owl and once like a brown owl."

I blinked. Owls sounded different?

"Wait, Kili, I don't think-" I turned around only to find an empty forest behind me.

I was going to kick them both.

Sighing, I looked back to where the ponies were caged. I couldn't just leave Myrtle to her fate.

So, as quietly as I could, with Fili's knife in hand, I made my way towards the ponies. There must have been some truth to what Gandalf had told me about hobbit magic- No matter where I seemed to step no noise came as a result. It was reassuring. Maybe I could do this.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I reached the makeshift pen. I eyed it, making sure to keep an ear open for the trolls. The sides of the structure seemed haphazardly thrown together with whatever the trolls had on hand. Wood and rope and yes, I closed my eyes briefly, bone.

There would have been no way I could get the ponies out without the knife Fili had given me. Now all I had to do was quiet the nervous shuffling ponies in order to get them out undetected. Theoretically it seemed easy enough: the trolls were keeping themselves busy by arguing about dinner and were likely not to notice the ponies when I would free them.

I crept towards the back of the pen, which was as far from the campfire and the trolls that surrounded it as I could get. Taking a deep breath I reached out towards the huge knot of rope that held one side of the pen to the other when one of the trolls shifted.

And turned to look directly at me.

Holding my breath, I tried not to move an inch.

"I hope you're going to gut these nags," the troll said, getting up and walking towards me, "I don't like the stinky parts."

Oh, gross. I couldn't bear the thought of them eating those sweet ponies.

Then, quick as lightening one of the other trolls, the biggest, reached out at smacked the smaller troll on the head, "I said sit down."

The small one howled but did as he was told.

I exhaled shakily. Okay, I might not have been able to do this after all.

"I'm starving, Bert," said the third troll, sitting the farthest from me. "Are we having 'orse tonight or what?"

"Shut your cake hole," Bert snarled, attention shifting back to the pot. "You'll eat what I give ya."

That was my chance. Quickly I started to slice away at the thick rope before finally removing it completely. I pulled the fence open, mindful of how close the trolls were. After tucking Fili's dagger safely away into the inner pocket of my jacket, I reached for Myrtle.

Almost instantly Myrtle quieted, likely recognizing me. To my relief, the other ponies followed suit.

"Good girl, Myrtle," I whispered. My fingers caught into her bridle and tugged her in my direction. She followed me sedately. "That's it. Let's go now."

I led the ponies out quietly, the other three stepping into line behind Myrtle. It was surprising similar to how we rode every day with them, one right behind the other.

"Alright," I breathed out as we pushed deeper into the forest, leaving the troll camp behind. "Almost there, here we go."

Finally, I decided we were far enough away from the camp to let the ponies head back to the herd on their own. I released my grip on Myrtle and gave her a gentle push in the direction where the rest of the ponies were still grazing.

Myrtle, perpetually good-natured, did as I wanted and the other ponies continued to follow her. I smiled in relief, watching and then listening to the ponies push through the forest's undergrowth and back to camp.

Safe, or so I thought.

A loud roar echoed from behind me. From the troll camp.

I froze, terror seizing me. I weighed my options. If I ran towards the ponies then we would be back where we started. If I ran back to where I knew the dwarves were, then I would be leading an ambush.

So I stayed where I was. Eyes closed and heart racing, I listened to the trolls crashing through the forest. I could almost _feel_ the ground shake as they drew near.

Finally they had arrived and I think they almost missed me because of how small I was. But, of course, I couldn't be that lucky.

"Oi," said one of the trolls, "What 'ave we here?"

And then suddenly I was no longer standing. In fact I was not even on the ground. I was trapped in the constricting grip of a troll. Around me, I could hear the trolls moving, likely back to their camp.

Gandalf where are you?

"Bring it here," said one of the trolls that didn't have me in their fist. "Bring it closer to the fire."

I opened my eyes to find myself face to face with the largest troll.

"What is it, Bill?" the smallest asked, reaching out as if to take me. Bill jerked away, bringing me with it. I wanted to vomit.

"Lemme see 'em," said Bert, looking over the small troll's shoulder, "I've neva seen anything like that before."

Bill grunted. "Oi," He said again bringing me closer to his face. I really wished he didn't. He smelt even worse up close. "What are ya?"

"I'm," I gasped out, trying to breathe, "I'm a. Listen, I'm sorry but could you loosen your grip? I'm having a bit of trouble getting air."

To my shock the troll obliged.

"Thank you," I sighed out. That was better. "I'm a hobbit."

"A hobbit?" The trolls echoed. Their faces scrunched in confusion.

"Yes," I confirmed.

The all looked at one another. Then Bert said, "Never seen a hobbit before."

I shrugged. "I've never seen a troll before."

They stared at me. Then Bill said, "You the one that stole our meal?"

I tried to shift in his grip. No luck. "Well, I suppose if you want to see it that way. I see it as taking back what was mine in the first place."

Bill growled at me, "You left 'em alone, they were fair game!"

I was not going to kick Fili and Kili, I decided, but murder them.

"Let's eat 'im instead." He proposed.

Bert grunted. "He won' make more than a mouthful when he's skinned and boned."

"Not even enough for a pie," the smallest troll agreed, mournfully.

"Shut up, Tom. Oi," Bill said, a thought occurring to him. "Are there anymore of you thieves about?"

Oh, no.

"No." I answered quickly. Hopefully not too quick. "Just me. I'm a merchant, you see. And those ponies are my merchandise. I was travelling to Bree hoping to sell them at a good enough price to pay off my debts."

That sounded pretty good. I'm awesome.

"I don't believe him," Tom declared. "No way could a little thing like tha' could manage all them ponies."

The other two rumbled in agreement.

"Hold his toes over the fire," Tom suggested gleefully, "Make 'im squeal!"

Oh, shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Then there was a rustle behind Tom and Kili emerged from the brush, cutting into the troll's leg as he passed. Tom squeaked loudly either out of surprise or pain, I couldn't tell.

Kili whirled around, sword raised and expression defiant.

"Drop him," Kili shouted.

Kili, no.

Bill stepped forward, bringing me with him. "You what?"

Kili grinned, baring his teeth more than actually smiling. "I said: drop him."

Bill took another step, thinking. Then, quick as anything, threw me at Kili.

Kili, to his credit, caught me but the force of the troll's toss caused us both to fall to the ground. And then the forest around us burst into life. Dwarves poured out of the brush and from behind trees, hollering with weapons raised. Kili sat up quickly, rolling me off him with surprising gentleness before lunging into the fray.

I had never seen the dwarves in combat before that night. There had never been a reason to. I knew they had weapons, lots of them, but I had never seen then in use. Until now. They moved almost like they were one single entity. Reading each other and the trolls they were able to coordinate their attacks and keep the trolls from attacking just one of the dwarves for long. It was absolutely mesmerizing.

Too mesmerizing. I had not moved from where Kili had left me and Bert had noticed. He moved towards me, determined, ignoring the dwarves' as he passed. Oh, God.

I scrambled to my feet, able to duck quickly as he made his first swipe. I ran passed where Dwalin was making an impressive hit to the back of Bill's knees. Dodging past where Ori was taking aim with his slingshot, I moved to the edge of the fight once more. I was relieved to see Bert had become distracted by Oin and Gloin.

But I did not take into account the last troll. And that was my greatest mistake.

I didn't hear him approach and before I knew what was happening I was back in the air, ribs creaking in protest at the forcible grip. Bill move to the fire and held me over the still-boiling pot.

"Oi!" He snarled. The fighting stopped as soon as the dwarves realized what had happened. Though, Dwalin got one last good swing in on the smallest troll's foot. "Drop your weapons."

The trolls and dwarves separated to different sides of the campsite. The dwarves were clearly out of breath but had pressed together as a united front, watching us carefully.

"Drop your weapons," Bill repeated, "Or I really _will_ drop him."

He grinned meanly at Kili who looked livid.

I couldn't meet anyone's eyes. I had just damned them and even if they decided I wasn't worth saving, I didn't want to see them when they came to that realization.

Then I heard the sound of metal hitting dirt, followed by multiple weapons being dropped.

I looked up, surprised.

Thorin was furious, eyes bright from the firelight as they met mine.

The trolls were thrilled. One quickly gathered the dwarves' weapons while the other two herded us to the far side of the camp against the rock outcrop. Then they bound our hands and put us in sacks.

Like everything the trolls seemed to come into contact with, they stank. And they were itchy.

It wasn't until after I had been deposited next to a cursing pile of dwarves that I saw that not all of us had been put into sacks.

Bifur, Bofur, Dori, Nori, Ori, and Dwalin were left out and were being stripped of their armor leaving them in only their underclothes. The dwarves weren't going quietly. Dwalin was snarling at the trolls and Dori was pushing both his brothers behind him in an effort to protect them. Bofur, I could see, was doing the same to Bifur.

It didn't matter, though. They were all tied together and put over the fire. Alive.

I had to do something. There had to be something I could do.

I scrambled through my memories, trying to recall what Gandalf had taught me about trolls. They, like goblins, did not like the sun. But trolls had an enchantment on them. They would turn to the stuff of the mountains they were made of- they would turn to stone.

I glanced up, assessing the moon's position. A couple of hours until dawn.

I squirmed indignantly, trying to pull my wrists free from their bindings. No luck. The trolls may not have been the smartest bunch but they were pretty good at tying knots. Then I felt it, the hard length of Fili's dagger pressing against my ribs. I had almost forgotten about it.

That would work.

Now all I had to do was stall them. I had to protect the dwarves.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." I said loudly just as one troll suggested sprinkling them with sage.

The dwarves next to me stilled and the trolls turned as one to face me.

"What did you say?" asked Bert.

"I said that's not what I would do, is all," I told them, keeping my voice casual, "With the seasoning."

That caught his interest. "What about the seasoning?"

"It's just," I said, pushing myself to my knees. "I don't think sage would be enough. Especially if you're planning to roast them. Not enough time to soak up the flavor."

Dad would be so proud if he knew that his grilling tips had actually sunk in.

Bert grunted in thought. "What would you suggest?"

Next to me Fili hissed, "What are you doing?"

"Well," I continued, ignoring Fili. "What about fresh rosemary? Or thyme if you have any."

"Rosemary?" Bert reared back, disgusted. "What is the matter with you?"

Then, as I had hoped, Tom put in, "I quite like rosemary. You don't use it near enough."

Bert turned back to the other trolls. "That's because I'm the only one that cooks! If either of you louts ever did anythin' useful around here, maybe I'd be inclined to try it!"

"Who you callin' a lout?" Bill roared, lunging at Bert with Tom following close behind, not wanting to be left out.

What happened next was an impressive brawl.

Satisfied that the trolls were well occupied, I rolled onto my back and focused on my bindings. Though the majority of my hands were useless my fingers were not. Carefully, I navigated my hands together underneath my jacket, letting out a quick exhale of relief as my fingers wrapped tightly around warm metal.

The sharp blade bit into my fingers as I extracted the dagger but after a few tense minutes I had the dagger's hilt in hand.

_Yes._

Making sure the trolls' attention had shifted from me and back to fire, I turned the dagger in my hand and cut sharply upward through the cloth. There as a satisfying rip and then a rush of cool night air against my body.

I exhaled sharply in pleasure. I did it. Well, sort of.

Eyeing the trolls nervously, I rolled onto my stomach, mindful of the sharp blade I still had in my grip.

Not even a minute later the trolls settled their dispute, with Bert as the victor.

"There," Bert said, satisfied, turning to me. "Now what'd I tell ya? Rosemary ain't for a rotisserie."

I cleared my throat nervously, hoping that the trolls would not come any closer and discover my half-finished escape.

"Of course." I said politely, face pressed to the dirt. "Apologies."

I waited with baited breath for the trolls' attention to shift from me and back to fire. And then I waited for a few more minutes for good measure.

I took a few deep breaths and with some effort rolled onto my back. Lifting my hands through the tear in my sack and to my mouth, I quickly inserted the dagger between my teeth, biting down hard. Pressing my bindings against the edge of the blade I quickly cut through the thick rope, finally freeing my hands. I spit the dagger back into my left hand and brought the dagger up to my throat and cut through the drawstring.

Success.

Extracting myself from the tattered remains of my sack I stood up quietly, mindful of the trolls. I turned my attention to the pile of dwarves next to me and was surprised to see them all already staring at me, expressions varying between disbelief and excitement.

I bent down next to Fili, who was the closest, and easily cut through his sack. Fili sat up immediately, holding his bound hands out to me. "Master Baggins," He whispered, "I can't believe-"

I hushed him immediately but couldn't stop myself from grinning, "Me either. Now hold still."

"Hey!" Bill shouted behind me. "How'd you get outta there?"

I winced. This was not what I had planned for.

I stood up slowly and turned to face the trolls. My mind raced, trying to come up with anything.

Bill was already moving closer, expression thunderous. "Where'd you get that blade?"

Desperate, I shouted and pointed at Bert, "He gave it to me!"

Bill froze. "He what?"

I nodded vehemently. "Yes, he said I deserved a fighting chance."

Bill turned around, looking almost apoplectic with rage, "What've I told you about our food? Don't talk to it!"

"I didn't do anythin'!" Bert shot back, offended. "I don't know what he's talkin' about!"

"Don't you try to trick me Bert! This ain't the first time it happened and I should've known you would do somethin' like this after tha' farmer's whelps!" Bill retorted, advancing on Bert.

Now it was Bert who looked angry, "I caught 'em, I decide what to do with 'em!"

"That ain't fair," Tom put in, looking upset. "You can be makin' decisions like that!"

"You're a booby," Bert hissed at Tom.

"Booby yourself!" Tom declared.

And so the brawl began all over again.

At least, so I had thought. But then Bill looked over at me, eyes narrowed.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doin'" Bill said, pushing the other two out of the way.

Uh-oh.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," I replied, backing up a step.

"This little hobbit," Bill told Bert and Tom, "Is tryin' to take us for fools!"

"Fools?" asked Bert, looking cross.

That would be the last question he would ever ask.

"The dawn," Gandalf declared, "Will take you all!"

Gandalf raised his staff and then brought it down on the outcrop and with a mighty crack, splitting it in two. Sunlight flooded the camp, turning all three howling trolls to stone.

The dwarves began to cheer.

Well, finally. Never late my ass.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Once again I want to thank you all for the reviews, favorites, and follows. It is so wonderful to see others enjoy this fic. I want to apologize for the long wait between chapter two and this one. I struggled with finishing this chapter and to be honest I'm still not happy with the last third of it. But, its been almost three weeks and I figure an update is in order.

This is the last chapter that I have prewritten and as such the rest of the chapters will probably come out even slower than this one. BUT I'm aiming to have the next chapter up in two weeks. Wish me luck.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing except Laura.

* * *

The first thing Gandalf and I did when he rejoined us at the troll's camp was to untie the sacks and let out the dwarves. Fili, at least, had been already been unbound and with his help we were able to free the rest of the company in no time.

As the dwarves sorted themselves out, brothers and cousins checking over one another, I did my best to stay out of the way.

"My dear Laura," Gandalf said, coming up beside me. He raised his staff to knock it against the nose of the stone troll that I was standing next to, "That was quite extraordinary."

I shot Gandalf a look, "Extraordinarily lucky, you mean. You have very," I paused, searching for the right word, "interesting timing."

Gandalf smiled, eyes crinkled at the corners. "I do not believe that it was luck at all."

I rolled my eyes. "What else could it have been?"

Before Gandalf could answer, Thorin approached us.

"Where did you go to, if I may ask?" Thorin asked looking caught between annoyance and relief.

Gandalf hummed. "To look ahead. There are many dangers that lie close ahead, I fear."

"What brought you back?" Thorin pressed.

"Looking behind," Gandalf replied as if it were obvious. I shook my head. Wizards. "Nasty business, still you're all in one piece."

Thorin's eyes landed on me, accusing. "And what led you to them in the first place? Practicing your pinching and pickpocketing?"

Oh, good. Let's play the blame game.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Fili and Kili turn towards us.

"No, not at all," I denied, trying not to get angry. "I was simply delivering dinner to the boys when I saw one of the trolls walking by with one pony under each arm. I followed out of concern."

Thorin's face grew thunderous. "And you did not think of what might have happened to Fili and Kili?"

I hesitated, eyes focused on the crop of trees to my right. "No. They're both young and quick. Clever, too. I imagined that they, instead of taking the troll head on, would fall back and alert the rest of the company."

I glanced over at Thorin who was watching me suspiciously. "Was I wrong?"

Thorin made a small noise that could have almost have been agreement. If, you know, he had been an agreeable person.

"I only wanted to scout," I told them both, half lying. "But, well, you saw how that turned out."

Thorin turned away from me and to Gandalf, dissatisfied. "I would have expected keeping out of sight of a few trolls would have been easy for any burglar. And instead _this_ is the one you insisted on?"

I gritted my teeth. What a dick.

Gandalf did not seem pleased either.

"Though Bilbo may have been captured so were the rest of your company." Gandalf reminded Thorin, "He had the nous to play for time- enough time to escape, even. None of you accomplished that."

Take that, asshole.

Thorin's mouth set into a thin line but he did not argue.

Gandalf turned away from us, glancing around the clearing. "Mountain trolls should not be so far south. They have not been in these lands for an Age, not since a darker power ruled."

I looked up at him. "Then why are they here?"

Gandalf did not answer but I could see his eyes had narrowed. "They must have come down from the Ettenmoors." He paused, thoughtful. "Trolls cannot move in daylight."

Thorin seemed to pick up on whatever Gandalf was thinking. "There must be a cave nearby."

He then turned away, shouting to the others to head back to camp and pack up.

I wanted to protest. I wanted to _sleep_.

But the dwarves did as they were told, brightening when Thorin explained that a troll hoard was probably close.

And so, after gathering our gear and seeing to the ponies, we began our search.

Thorin was right, there was a cave nearby. After less than an hour of searching, Nori found it up higher in the hill, hidden by bushes. Gandalf did not hesitate in going in, followed closely by Thorin, Dwalin, Nori, Gloin, and Bofur.

I refused. I had enough troll-stench to last me a lifetime, thank you.

Instead I sat on a nearby fallen log, no doubt caused by the trolls, and took my first look at my hands since I had sliced them up. I grimaced. It was difficult to tell underneath the dried blood and dirt but from what I could see the cuts weren't deep per say. One stretched clean across the top of my left palm while several smaller cuts littered the fingers of my right hand.

I was not the only one to notice. No sooner had I sat down and examined my fingers that Oin approached with bag in hand.

"Show me, laddie," He demanded, already opening his pack and pulling out various bottles and bundles.

I hesitated, but relented after a moment's consideration. I had a feeling Oin was not one to take no for an answer.

Before he even began his examination, Oin reached into his pack pulling out a square piece of linen and a waterskin. Liberally pouring the water over my hands, Oin took the linen and scrubbed at the dried blood. I tried not to wince as my cuts flared painfully.

When he finished cleaning my hands Oin looked over them carefully, surprisingly gentle as he ran his fingertips over the angry red cuts.

Oin muttered something quietly, then loud enough for me to hear he said, "Nothing too bad, Master Baggins. Let me give you something that will help prevent them from festering."

I nodded quickly. Festering sounded disgusting.

Instead of handing me the ointment, Oin took my hands, one at a time, and applied it himself. He eyed each cut critically but eventually had determined them well covered.

"You'll need to wrap those," Oin warned. "Find me and we will do so before we leave."

I blinked up at him, surprised. "Thank you, Master Oin."

Oin waved me off, already repacking his bag. "Don't forget."

"Yes," I agreed. Satisfied, he moved away to leave me blissfully alone in my exhaustion.

But, of course, that couldn't last long.

I felt two bodies press up next to me, one on each side. I didn't even have to look up to know who it was.

"Hello Fili," I said wearily, "Hello, Kili."

"Mr. Baggins," Fili responded with a nod.

Kili shifted next to me. "How are you feeling?"

Like I've been run over by a semi-truck, thanks, was what I wanted to say. But I knew they wouldn't understand the reference.

"Fine," I told them instead. "And you?"

"Fine," Kili assured me quickly.

Glad that we were finished exchanging pleasantries, I fell silent.

Fili and Kili had other ideas.

"We wanted to thank you, Master Baggins." Fili said after a few beats of silence.

I glanced up at him, his face was uncharacteristically serious. "What for?"

"You didn't tell Uncle," Kili reminded me, "Even though it'd be easier for you."

Oh, right.

I made a noncommittal noise.

"You have proven yourself a valuable friend," Fili told me. "Not just to us but to the company. You were very brave."

I smiled. "You're too kind."

"It's the truth, Mister Baggins!" Kili insisted, nudging my shoulder with his, "The way you spoke to those trolls! I can hardly believe it and I witnessed it."

I shook my head at his words. Hoping to move on from the previous night I said, "If you consider me your friend then, please, call me Bilbo."

"Yes, Bilbo," They chorused together. I turned to look at the ground to try and hide my grin. Ridiculous.

Not more than a minute or two later, Gandalf and Thorin emerged. Fili and Kili jumped up at the sight of their uncle, eyes locked on the weapon he was carrying.

I watched Fili and Kili move away to greet Thorin as Gandalf came towards me.

"Laura," Gandalf said softly, holding out what looked like a dagger in his hand. "Here, this is about your size."

I took the weapon gingerly from Gandalf. Though it was the size of a dagger to him it was much better suited as a sword for me.

"Gandalf, I," I wanted to argue. I did not did not know how - and did not _want_- to fight.

Gandalf shook his head, not interested in hearing my protests. "That blade is of elvish make. It will glow blue when orcs or goblins are near. A handy thing to have, don't you agree?"

"Gandalf," I tried again. "I have never held a sword in my life! The closest I have come to it are my kitchen knives. What good would this do me? I couldn't. What I mean is that I never want to-"

Gandalf frowned but his eyes were full of understanding, "And I hope you will never have to. But if you do, remember this: true courage is about knowing not when to take a life but when to spare one."

I sighed but nodded, winding the belt around my waist which left the sword to hang on my left hip.

Then there was a noise, a rustle not dissimilar to the sounds the trolls made when they crashed through the forest.

My stomached dropped. Not more trolls.

"Gandalf?" I asked in desperation.

Gandalf was already drawing his sword, calling, "Hurry now! Arm yourselves and stay together!"

The company began to move, weapons drawn and eyes watchful.

"Bilbo!" Kili called, flanking me, bow at the ready. Fili joined us on my other side, a sword in each hand. "Come on, Bilbo this way!"

It looked like they were taking their declaration of friendship seriously.

I unsheathed my own sword, nervous at the weight of it in my hand.

We ran only a short distance before whatever had made the noise burst through the forest on our left shouting, "Thieves! Fire! Murder!"

It was then I got a good look at what was crashing through the trees: a team of huge rabbits pulling what looked like a sled. Perched on the back of the sled was a man, tall and gangly like Gandalf, in brown robes and a hat that looked like a cross between Gandalf's and Bofur's.

"Ah," Gandalf said, sheathing his weapon. I quickly did the same. If Gandalf knew this man then that was good enough for me. "Radagast."

The wizard?

Gandalf drew closer to the other man. "What on earth are you doing here?"

Around me, the other dwarves sheathed their weapons as well but I noticed many of them kept their hands on the hilts.

"I was looking for you Gandalf!" Radagast said, a touch frantic. "Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong."

I exchanged a look with Thorin of all people, who I had ended up next to with Fili and Kili. This could not be good.

Whatever Radagast was afraid of, he could not seem to recall it. "Oh, I had a thought but now I've lost it. It was right there on the tip of my tongue."

Gandalf leaned on his staff, surprisingly patient.

"Oh!" Radagast exclaimed, something occurring to him. "It's not a thought at all! Why it's," Gandalf then reached into his mouth, "It's a silly old stick insect."

Gandalf deposited the bug into Radagast's palm, unruffled.

"Oh, for God's sake," I muttered, looking away. Around me, the other dwarves whispered among themselves, clearly uncertain about the new wizard.

"I need a moment with my colleague." Gandalf said to us, moving away from the group.

Thorin looked like he wanted to protest but said nothing. He likely figured, as I did, that wizard business was not something to mess with.

"Wizards," I hissed out, walking towards a large root that I could sit on. This was going to take a while.

* * *

I was wrong. Their conversation could not have lasted more than ten minutes but judging by their grave expressions it was something important. Radagast eventually pulled something out of his robes, something long and thin that was wrapped in cloth, and handed it to Gandalf.

Then there was a howl.

"What was that?" I asked, cautiously standing. "A wolf?"

"Wolves?" Bofur said moving towards me from where he and his family were resting. His mattock was in hand, "No that is not a wolf."

A growl came from behind us. Turning, I saw a huge creature that looked like a cross between an overgrown wolf and hyena lunging towards Bofur and me.

Thorin moved forward, elvish sword raised, and hacked into the beast's neck causing it to fall to the ground, twitching. It did not get up. Over Thorin's shoulder another of the creatures appeared already moving towards us. Kili reacted instantly, bow drawn and arrow fired straight into the beast's forehead killing it instantly.

"Warg scouts!" Thorin declared, pulling his sword free from the corpse's neck. "Which means an orc pack is not far behind!"

What.

"Who did you tell about your quest beyond your kin?" Gandalf demanded, rounding on Thorin.

"No one," Thorin answered, uneasy.

Judging by the look on Gandalf's face, he did not believe Thorin. "Who did you tell?"

"No one," Thorin insisted, looking alarmed. "I swear. What in Durin's name is going on?"

Gandalf's eyes darkened. "You are being hunted."

Good. Fantastic. This was just what we needed on an already wonderful day.

"We have to get out of here," Dwalin decided.

"We can't," Ori said, coming up behind Thorin. The growling and howls grew louder. "The ponies have bolted."

Oh, no, Myrtle.

Radagast stepped forward. "I'll draw them off."

Gandalf was already shaking his head. "These are Gundabad wargs. They will outrun you."

Radagast scoffed. "These are Rhosgobel rabbits." He smiled grimly. "I'd like to see them try."

This seemed to appease Gandalf as he turned to and shouted, "Make for the tree-line to the east. Do not stop!"

No one argued.

We all ran, staying together as closely as possible as we darted between the trees. Behind us, Radagast and his rabbits took off through the forest. I could only hope that he was right about having speed on his side because the rest of us sure didn't.

Not for lack of trying. We did not stop, not when we reached the rest of the forest, not as we dodged between rock outcrops along the plains, not as the howls of the orc pack grew fainter thanks to Radagast. We did not stop, we could not stop. Not until-

"Ori no-" Thorin grabbed the young dwarf by his collar pulling back against the outcrop we were next to.

Not a second later did Radagast shoot past, the entire orc pack not far behind.

Jesus.

"All of you," Gandalf ordered, making shooing motions with his hand, "Move. Quick!"

As I jogged passed, trying desperately to control my breathing, I heard Thorin ask, "Where are you leading us?"

Whether or not Gandalf answered I did not know. But I trusted him to take us to safety.

We continued running until Radagast's team came dangerously close and we all pressed against an enormous boulder. Dwalin threw a protective arm across my chest, pushing me closely against the stone at my back. I could hear the warg's wheezing above us and I had no doubt the rest of the dwarves did too.

Beside me, Thorin turned to Kili and gave him a nod. Quietly, Kili took and arrow and nocked it against his bow. He took two quick steps forward, turned, and fired.

The warg snarled in pain and stumbled across the boulder before falling at our feet, writhing. The orc was on its feet in an instant, moving towards us with its weapon at the ready.

Dwalin stepped forward, war axe raised and swung it down hard against the orc's head. Bifur moved too, driving his spear into the orc's chest, killing it instantly. Then they turned to the crippled warg, Dwalin burying his axe into its ribs and Bifur pushing his spear through its skull.

I looked away, gagging.

Then the howling started up again. Only this time it was much too close for comfort.

"Move," Gandalf urged us, pointing ahead, "Run!"

This time we did not have Radagast to protect us and the wargs were gaining. We did our best to keep moving, weaving among the hills but it was not enough. Soon we surrounded forced against a large outcrop of stone.

There was no escape.

"There's more coming!" Kili cried, running back towards us.

Terrified, I drew my sword. Was this how it would end?

Kili did his best, shooting off arrow after arrow each one hitting its mark but it was not enough. There were too many of them even without those taken down by Kili.

And to make matter worse, I heard Dori shout, "Where's Gandalf?"

"He's abandoned us," Dwalin snarled, furious.

No, not Gandalf.

Thorin backed closer to us, trying desperately to close our ranks with his sword still raised. "Hold your ground!"

We did as Thorin commanded and drew in against one another. Then:

"This way you fools!" Gandalf shouted at us.

I looked over my shoulder to see the wizard drop down behind a boulder as if he had jumped into something.

We all rushed towards where Gandalf had disappeared. Rounding the large rock I could see a steep incline leading underground that looked almost like a slide.

"Quickly, all of you," Thorin urged. He grabbed Bofur's shoulder and pushed him down the incline.

Then he gestured to me, I did as he bid, sliding with what I hoped was a bit more grace than Bofur down into the hole.

One by one the other dwarves followed. I could hear Gandalf counting them as they joined us. Finally Thorin and Kili came last, just as a horn blared across the plains.

The sounds of a battle came from above followed shortly by an orc's corpse falling down the slope and landing at our feet.

Thorin checked it over, pulling an arrow out of where it was imbedded in the orc's spine. His face contorted at the sight of the arrowhead, "Elves."

From up ahead I heard Dwalin shout, "I cannot see where the path leads! Do we follow it or not?"

Bofur did not hesitate, already moving towards Dwalin as he shouted back, "Follow it of course!"

Next to me Thorin gave Gandalf a poisonous look.

"I think that would be wise," Gandalf said, turning to me with his arm outstretched.

Thorin pushed past but I couldn't help but stop and ask, "Gandalf where are you taking us?"

Gandalf's eyes twinkled. "My dear, telling would ruin the surprise."

Wizards.

We continued through the narrow ravine for at least a few hours. And then, finally, it began to open allowing us to gather together on an overlook that gave us a full view of the valley before us.

I cannot put into words the beauty of Rivendell or the emotions that my first look of it inspired. But it was something that I would not forget for as long as I live. It took my breath away.

"The valley of Imladris," Gandalf announced to us. "Here lies the last Homely House east of the sea."

Thorin was not nearly as impressed as I was. In fact he was rather cross. I could hear him speak harshly with Gandalf for a few moments as the rest of us took in the sight of the valley.

Eventually Gandalf called, "Shall we then?"

And so we did. It was not an easy walk down to Rivendell but there was at least an obvious path.

"Our request for help," Gandalf told us as we continued down into the valley, "will require tact, respect, and no small degree of charm. That is why you all will leave the talking to me."

None of us argued, though there was quite a bit of disgruntlement amongst the dwarves at Gandalf's words.

We eventually reached the edge of a river and crossed over a thin small bridge, passing two flanking statues, to take our first steps into Rivendell. Though I was awestruck by the beauty of such a place, the dwarves were not. They stayed close together, eyeing their surroundings with obvious suspicion. I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

Ahead of us was a staircase carved into the stone and floating down it was the first elf I had ever seen.

He was beautiful in a very delicate way. He was tall and willowy with long dark hair pulled away to reveal pointed ears much like my own. His face was handsome, smooth, and wearing a long-suffering expression. His robes billowed behind him as he came to a stop in front of Gandalf.

"Mithrandir," The elf said, head dipped in greeting.

"Ah," Gandalf sighed looking pleased, "Lindir."

To my right I could hear Thorin and Dwalin muttering about "staying sharp."

For God's sake, this was a safe as we were going to get.

Then Gandalf and the elf fell into conversation but not in language I recognized. It was flowing and smooth and easy on the ears, at least to me. The dwarves around me scoffed. I listened half-heartedly to their conversation, picking up on their use of the word "elrond" several times. Maybe that meant dwarf?

Then a familiar horn blared and we all turned to see what could only be soldiers mounted on horses. They crossed the bridge and came directly towards us.

The dwarves immediately had their weapons at the ready, closing into a tight circle. Bofur grabbed my shoulder to pull me close next to Balin. I watched in dismay as the horses circled us, the dwarves becoming more riled by the second.

Eventually they came to a halt and one rider dismounted, removing his helmet. It was another elf, this one was older than Lindir but with the same dark hair.

He greeted Gandalf eagerly, pulling the wizard into an embrace and speaking once again in the other language.

The elf then said, "Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders," He glanced pointedly at our group many of whom still had their weapons raised. "Something or someone has drawn them near."

Gandalf smiled, "That may have been us, Lord Elrond."

Oh. So Elrond was a name. My bad.

Thorin stepped forward, causing Elrond's eyes lit up in recognition. "Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain."

Thorin did not glare but he was definitely unhappy. "I don't believe we have met."

Elrond, to his credit, seemed unaffected by Thorin's terse response. "You have your grandfather's bearing," He told Thorin, "I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain."

"Indeed?" Thorin replied, "He made no mention of you."

Thorin. Shut up.

Elrond's expression did not change but his eyes instead moved to look over the rest of us. And then they landed on me. I could see his head tilt in consideration, eyes filled with curiosity.

I didn't know whether to be irritated or amused when the dwarves shifted, incredibly unsubtle, to shield me from view.

Elrond looked amused, eyes darting from me to Gandalf and back. "Please, follow me. I would be honored to have you at my table."

I leaned around Fili to smile at Elrond gratefully but around me the dwarves pulled together, whispering. I closed my eyes drawing on my dwindling patience. I could feel my smile slipping.

"He is offering us food," I hissed at the dwarves, ignoring their own glares. "I'm hungry and so are all of you. _Let's go_."

The dwarves conversed among themselves for a few more moments before relenting.

"Carry on then," Gloin said, gesturing towards the stairs.

Elrond glanced at Gandalf, and if I didn't know any better, looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"Allow me to show you to your rooms," Elrond said serenely, "Dinner will be served shortly thereafter."

Our rooms? I liked this one.

Judging by the angry muttering behind me, the dwarves did not.

Can't win them all I guess.

* * *

Dinner was interesting. Freshly clean from bathing, the dwarves were completely unimpressed with the elves' offerings of fish, greens, and mushrooms. Instead they picked at their food and mostly drank wine, eyeing their plates with evident distrust. The elves did their best to entertain the dwarves with music but if Oin stuffing his napkin into his ear trumpet was any indication, they failed.

I personally thought the food was delicious and the music soothing but wisely chose not to comment on either out loud.

The dinner ended with Gandalf and Thorin's swords names having been revealed as Glamdring and Orcrist respectively. And mine? Mine was declared to be a little more than a letter opener by Balin, who looked entirely too amused by the whole affair.

After dinner we retired to the rooms that Elrond provided for us that set in an open airy hallway with a balcony overlooking a truly impressive garden. Or at least most of us did.

Before I had even gotten more than a few steps from the table Gandalf took me by the shoulder and steered me away to follow Elrond with Thorin and Balin close behind. Elrond led us to a secluded study, eyes bright with interest.

"Thorin," Gandalf held out his hand.

Thorin's jaw set stubbornly. "It is the legacy of my people. It is mine to protect as are its secrets."

"Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves!" Gandalf exclaimed. "Your pride will be your downfall if you are not careful."

Thorin glared, unmoved.

Now Gandalf was starting to look irritated. "You stand in the presence of one of the few in Middle Earth who can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond!"

The map? How hard was it to read a map?

I looked over, curious. Thorin seemed to debate internally for a moment before reaching inside his coat to pull out a familiar folded piece of parchment.

"Thorin, no," Balin gasped, wrapping his fingers around Thorin's wrist. Thorin pushed Balin away gently, holding out the map to Elrond.

Elrond nodded, accepting the map and unfolded it quickly. Apparently he really did know how to read it as it took him only a glance to determine, "Moon runes. They can only be read under the light of the same shape and season as the day on which they are written. These particular runes were written on a midsummer's eve by the light of a crescent moon."

"It seems luck is in your favor, Master Dwarf. A crescent moon is only two nights away." Elrond informed us all, handing the map back to Thorin.

Thorin gave him a nod in thanks, already tucking the map away safely. He and Balin turned to leave but were stopped by Elrond's observation, "That is a map of Erebor."

Thorin turned slowly, shoulders tense.

Elrond's eyes were solemn and unwavering. "What is your interest in this map?"

To my surprise, it was Gandalf who answered, "Academic, of course."

Thorin nodded, tension easing. "As the wizard says."

And with that, the two dwarves disappeared down the shadowy hallway.

I sighed. Dwarves. So rude.

I turned to look up at Elrond, smiling apologetically. "I'm sorry for their," I paused searching for the right word, "abruptness. Thank you for your help and for opening your home to us."

Elrond smiled back. "It is no trouble."

Liar. I had seen what the dwarves had done to the dining hall.

"All the same," I answered with a bow. "Good night."

Elrond echoed the sentiment and at his side Gandalf beamed down at me.

I followed the dwarves down the hallway but they had already disappeared. And I could not recall how to get back to our guest wing. So I ended up wandering.

I can't be sure of how long I was lost that night but it was for at least a few hours. All of the hallways, floor levels, and gardens looked the same to me in the dark. I was just about to resign myself to pounding on doors to find someone to lead me back to the Company when I rounded a corner only to find Nori hidden deep in the shadows.

Nori, who was stuffing an expensive-looking candelabra into his coat.

Well, then. I cleared my throat pointedly. Nori, to his credit, did not jump. But he did freeze in place, eyes assessing. I could see the moment he recognized me, his shoulders relaxing and hand moving away from where I suspected he was keeping a concealed dagger in his sleeve.

"Evening Master Baggins," Nori said with a nod.

I dipped my head in return. "Appreciating elven craftsmanship are we?"

Nori snorted. "Craftsmanship is a bit generous a word isn't it?"

I resisted the urge to smile. "If you say so."

We eyed each other for a few moments.

"Listen," I started, "I hate to interrupt but you wouldn't happen to know where our rooms are, would you?"

Nori's eyes narrowed, "Aye."

I could not help but roll my eyes at his short response. "Can you take me there?"

Nori sighed, looking put out, but nodded. He brushed past me and motioned down the hall I had come from, walking quickly. Startled, I hurried to follow him, Nori's longer legs giving him an advantage. We walked for some time before Nori finally led me down a familiar outdoor walkway and to our wing. At the end of the hallway I could see a fire had been lit, likely not approved by the elves, around which the rest of the dwarves were gathered.

I stopped at my door, thankfully the first in the hallway and the farthest from the group of dwarves, and turned to look at Nori.

Nori's eyes seemed to glow, much like a cat's, in the darkness. I debated internally whether to ask the question that had been on my mind during our walk back to the rooms. Finally, I simply gave in. "May I ask you something?"

Nori's head tilted in what I assumed was a nod of permission. I was going to take it that way.

I watched what little of Nori's face I could see closely, "Did you take anything from Bag End the night we met?"

There was a long pause.

"No," Nori replied, surprising me. "Rule to live by, Master Baggins: never steal from a thief. Has a way of coming back to you."

I couldn't decide whether or not I believed him. What little I had learned of Nori during our travels was not reassuring. But in the end I realized there was not much I could do to find out, short of going through Nori's things. And that, likely as not, would result in more harm than good especially if any one of the Company caught me.

I nodded. "Thank you." I moved to open the door as Nori turned to continue down the hall. A thought occurred to me. "Oh, and Nori?"

Nori looked over his shoulder.

"Try not to get caught, alright?" I requested. "I doubt Elrond's hospitality will continue upon the discovery of sticky fingers."

Nori stared at me for a long moment. Then he grinned, or I thought so anyway, and gave me a sloppy salute before moving quickly down the hallway towards the fire.

I quietly shut the door behind me. Removing my suspenders, I clambered up the too-tall bed and fell back with a sigh into the soft pillows. To my right, through the large windows an elf had thoughtfully opened, I could hear the dwarves talking loudly amongst themselves, complaining about the dinner and making fun of the appearance of the elves.

I rolled my eyes beneath my closed eyelids and between one breath and the next I fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

* * *

The next few days, as we waited for the crescent moon to appear, did little to improve the dwarves' opinion of elves. In fact, if anything, their behavior worsened with each passing day. Not only did they continue to gripe about the food but they also cheerfully destroyed the plumbing, "accidentally" broke several vases and other ornaments, destroyed not one but three training areas, and bathed in what was apparently a sacred fountain. They even refused to sleep in the rooms provided to us, instead camping out on our wing's balcony.

And me? I did everything I could to distance myself from my incredibly embarrassing travel companions.

It worked for the most part. Only Fili and Kili were adventurous enough to try and find me and even then it was not often. They seemed to either have been able to occupy themselves or, more likely, forbidden by the older dwarves to wander too far from their improvised camp.

The residents of Rivendell, on the other hand, were much more difficult to ignore. Wherever I went there seemed to be at least three or four always in a group. I theorized that, like teenage girls, they moved in herds. And they watched me. All the time. To be fair it was always from a distance, whether out of suspicion or horror or curiosity, I couldn't say. I ignored them and cheerfully spent most of my time in Elrond's many gardens. I was guaranteed to not be bothered by dwarves, who seemed to see little point in being surrounded by plants, and was secluded enough from the elves to avoid questions.

Though I was not able to avoid one elf.

Lindir, it seemed, had deemed me the only member of the Company worth interacting with and as such I became the unofficial bearer of his complete and total vexation. Not that he directed his annoyance towards me, not in a malicious way at any rate, but instead in a resigned sort of fashion that meant there was a lot of complaining and commiserating between us. I shared my story of the night at Bag End and in return Lindir vented about what terrible thing the dwarves had done that hour and why were things suddenly missing and how could Lord Elrond do this to me?

It wasn't so bad, truth be told. Lindir, after his grievances were aired, was a delightful companion if not a bit difficult to interact with. I had grown used to dwarves, while admittedly taller, they were still my size. It was exhausting to have to look up all the time.

But Lindir made up for it. He was more than willing to share elven stories and poetry, to patiently teach me about the different plants that grew in Elrond's lovely gardens, and take me for walks all over Rivendell.

I was enjoying my time in Rivendell and, in all honesty, wished that we did not have to leave.

It didn't matter what I wished, though, because the night of the crescent moon quickly came upon us. After the sun had set Gandalf collected me from Lindir and we joined Elrond, Thorin, and Balin.

Elrond led us outside the area that I had come to recognize as Rivendell and up along the cliffs in the surrounding valley. We walked for what seemed like an eternity- mostly because the steps were just high enough to make climbing them difficult if one was not careful- before we eventually reached an intricately carved lookout that gave us a breathtaking view of Rivendell's waterfalls.

Elrond wordlessly held out his hand to Thorin, who hesitantly offered his map. Elrond unfolded it carefully, smoothing it out on the crystal dais before us. We all looked up to where the moon hung over us, clouds clearing as if sensing our need. The dais glowed, showing pale blue ruins on the map that most certainly were not there a moment ago.

Cool.

"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks," Elrond read to us, "and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the key-hole."

"Durin's Day," I repeated. "Who is Durin?"

"My ancestor," Thorin told me, his voice full of awe. "The father of the fathers of the eldest race of dwarves."

"And he has his own day?" I prompted. Thorin's eyes tore from the map to land on me impatiently.

"It is the first day of our New Year, " Balin told me quickly, "On the first day of the last moon of Autumn on the threshold of Winter. It is when the last moon of Autumn and the first sun of Winter are in the sky together."

Oh.

"This is ill news," Thorin said, turning to Balin. "Summer is passing and Durin's Day will soon be upon us."

"We still have time," Balin assured him. "We will find the entrance. We have to be standing in exactly the right spot at exactly the right time. Then and only then can the door be opened."

Elrond's face darkened. Uh-oh. "You wish to enter the mountain?"

Thorin looked just as unhappy as Elrond. "What of it?"

No, Thorin. Stop.

"There are some," Elrond told him patiently, almost like he was speaking to a child. And to Elrond maybe Thorin was exactly that. "Who would not deem it wise."

I exchanged a look with Gandalf. This wasn't going well.

Thorin appeared to have had enough. He reached up to take the map back, a bit forcefully in my opinion. He glared until Elrond turned away, retreating to the path that we had taken to get there.

Eventually we all made it down. Gandalf had disappeared the moment we were back in the halls of Rivendell. Elrond gave Thorin one last lingering glance, which Thorin pointedly ignored, before sweeping off down one of the many hallways leaving the rest of us behind.

With little choice, I followed behind Thorin and Balin who were speaking together, voices low, in a language I did not recognize. We arrived back at the dwarves' balcony quickly and Thorin shared what Elrond had told us with the rest of the company.

That night was one of the most joyous in Rivendell, at least for the dwarves. Upon hearing that there was in fact a secret door, and that we actually knew its relative location, the dwarves celebrated. It was becoming clear to me that dwarves had a tendency to celebrate _anything_. The dwarves laughed and joked loudly, tossing around sausages and sing lewd songs and generally making a nuisance of themselves.

As had become my habit during our time in Rivendell, I did my best to ignore them.

I climbed one of the many flights of stairs slowly, letting the noises of the dwarves fade as I moved away. Below was my favorite garden, lit with delicate lanterns that caused the water to shimmer and the flowers to take on an almost ethereal glow.

I sighed, pleased. I suspected it was a hobbit trait: to find such ease and relief being surrounded by nature and things that grew. I wasn't going to complain.

I snapped out of my reverie at the sound of voices coming from beneath the landing that I had stopped on. Peering over the side of the balustrade I could see Gandalf and Elrond below in the garden, their heads bowed and deep in conversation. As they drew near I could pick up snatches of their discussion: our quest.

"If the dwarves take back the mountain," Gandalf was arguing, "our defenses in the East will be strengthened!"

"It is a dangerous move, Gandalf," Elrond countered, shaking his head.

Gandalf was undeterred. "It is also dangerous to do nothing." He sighed impatiently. "The throne of Erebor is Thorin's birthright. What is it you fear?"

Elrond stopped, turning to Gandalf, his posture stiff. "Have you forgotten? A strain of madness runs deep in that bloodline. His grandfather lost his mind, his father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear Thorin will not fall as well?"

Madness? In Thorin? Pride, yes. Being a jerk, hell yeah. But madness? Thorin was perhaps the most steadfast and solemn person I had ever met, when he wasn't busy losing his temper. Crazy he was not.

Gandalf did not answer. And in a way, that was answer enough.

By the time Gandalf and Elrond had continued their conversation they had moved deeper into the gardens, far enough away that I was unable to continue eavesdropping.

I turned to continue my trek up the stairs and was surprised to see Thorin behind me. Immediately my stomach dropped. How long had he been standing there? Had he heard what Elrond had said?

Thorin's face was, for the most part, unreadable. But there were small clues: his brows were furrowed, mouth downturned even more than usual and his gaze was unfocused.

Thorin had definitely heard.

I hesitated but decided to move up the staircase to continue my walk. To my surprise Thorin fell into step beside me.

We did not speak for a long time. To be honest, I was not even sure that Thorin was really aware of my presence beside him. He seemed to be lost in thought and I was not eager to break the silence.

But what we had overheard was unfair to him to be compared so harshly to another. And he did not deserve such harshness no matter what I thought of him.

"You shouldn't listen to them," I said quietly, half-hoping Thorin did not hear me.

For a brief, hopeful moment I thought he didn't as he said nothing. And then, suddenly, he stopped and stared.

I gulped. Well, I had to finish what I started didn't I?

I watched him carefully and went on, "You're not your grandfather."

"And what would a hobbit know of such matters?" Thorin growled. But this was different from the tone he normally took with me. He sounded less fed up and more tired.

I weighed my options quickly. I finally settled on the truth. "I don't like you."

Thorin's eyes turned hard.

"You can be callous and short tempered." I informed him. "And quite frankly you're awful at directions."

Thorin's face, if possible, grew even more thunderous. Time to wrap this up and quick.

"But you are a good leader," I admitted, "And I believe that you will lead us to Erebor. You will reclaim your home."

He had to.

Thorin stared at me for a long time, long enough for me to start to grow uncomfortable. His expression was impressively blank for a guy who had, only a few moments ago, been ready to completely lose it on me.

What Thorin thought of my declaration I would never find out because Gandalf appeared, seemingly out of the shadows, and came towards us with surprising speed.

"There is no time to lose," Gandalf informed us, skipping over any greetings. "You must gather the company and leave now."

Thorin and I stared at the wizard, unmoving.

"What?" I asked after a beat had passed. "Why?"

"Lord Elrond has been most patient with us," Gandalf explained, "But not every power in Middle Earth is so generous. If we do not want this quest to end here and now, you must go."

"And what of you?" Thorin wanted to know, setting his jaw stubbornly.

Gandalf shook his head. This did not bode well. "You will have to continue on without me."

Yeah, there was definitely no way this could end badly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Once again I want to thank you all for the reviews, favorites, and follows. It is so wonderful to see others enjoy this fic. This chapter has a lot going on plot-wise, including a lot more dialogue than I've written previously, so I am a little nervous about it especially regarding characterization. Let me know what you think?

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing except Laura.

* * *

We left just as dawn began to break.

Gandalf had insisted that we make for the mountains, assuring us that he would meet us there after his business in Rivendell had been completed. He explained that the mountains were harsh and dangerous and that evil creatures had been see there and above all else we needed to wait for him.

Thorin was displeased to say the least but we did as Gandalf said. The company rallied quickly, gathering our things and raiding the nearest kitchens for food.

And so we left, talking very little and mindful of staying in the shadows. I thought it was all a bit dramatic to be honest. It wasn't as if the elves of Rivendell would try to stop us. In fact, they were much more likely to celebrate our leaving.

But, as I had come to expect, we could not accomplish anything without a hiccup.

We had all made it down to the courtyard where we had first met Elrond when Lindir found us.

"What is the meaning of this?" He asked, descending the stairs quickly.

The dwarves had no interest in speaking with an elf. I was sure I did not imagine their pace quickening after Lindir's question. But he was my friend and I wanted to say good-bye. So I stopped.

I tilted my head up, my eyes meeting his. "It's time for us to go."

Lindir frowned. "I must tell Lord Elrond."

"Of course," I replied with a shrug. Lindir's loyalty, I had learned during our weeklong stay, was absolute.

Lindir's frown grew deeper as we watched as the last of the dwarves turned on the path and moved out of sight.

I smiled up at him, feeling surprisingly melancholy. I would miss the stuffy elf. "Good bye Lindir."

Lindir turned his attention back to me. His face changed then, from annoyance to what I would almost call sadness. "Good bye _mellon._"

It was with a heavy heart that I left Rivendell that morning. I would miss the elves, the gardens, the serenity.

I had caught up to the dwarves swiftly enough, following them at a distance. I would rather lose an arm than admit it out loud but I was sad to leave Rivendell behind. I stopped once we had reached the top of the cliffs, looking back one more time to take in the elven city. I highly doubted I would ever see it again.

"Master Baggins," Thorin called impatiently. "I suggest you keep up."

With one last glance over my shoulder, I obeyed.

In the days that followed, whenever there was light we travelled. Thorin and Balin seemed quite keen on moving us as far out of Elrond's territory as possible. That meant our days were long and hard. It also meant that I was having quite a hard time of it. Travelling on foot was much more difficult than travelling on ponies and infinitely more exhausting. Despite hobbits and dwarves being a similar size, the rest of the company easily out-paced me. Whatever Bilbo Baggins was before I had arrived, an athlete he most certainly was not.

And the paths in the mountains were hard and dangerous. Rocks and boulders seemed to be more and more unstable as we climbed higher into the mountains. The path was long and crooked and seemed to go on forever. Soon enough, though, we reached the peak where Gandalf had told us to wait. And wait we did, for three days.

And still there was no Gandalf.

The dwarves, I could see, were already growing restless. On the fourth night Thorin declared we would continue into the mountains without Gandalf.

I was more than a little displeased. And so, despite my instincts, I confronted Thorin.

It was well after dinner, the others already falling into their habit of talking and lighting their pipes. Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin were the only ones who abstained. Instead they were crowded around the map talking in low voices in a language I did not know but had come to understand was a dwarvish tongue.

Balin was the first to notice me, stopping midsentence to smile at me in greeting. "Master Baggins."

I nodded in return. "Good evening."

Thorin eyed me irritably. Shocking. "What is it, burglar?"

Next to Thorin, Dwalin watched me carefully. His face was surprisingly neutral which on Dwalin meant he was scowling impressively.

I hesitated against better judgment. I had learned rather quickly during our journey that indecisiveness was looked down upon by dwarves.

I decided not to beat around the bush. "I wanted to speak with you about- well, not waiting for Gandalf."

Thorin's expression darkened considerably. "What is there to discuss?"

Balin shot Thorin a reproachful look but was completely ignored.

"Gandalf asked us to wait," I reminded Thorin carefully, "He said it was dangerous."

Thorin looked unimpressed. "If danger was what stopped us we would have never left the Blue Mountains, Master Baggins."

I took a deep breath. Stay calm, Laura. "If Gandalf's suspicions are right then we have more to fear than a few goblins. We need him."

"And what," Thorin wanted to know, "Do you think a wizard can do for us that we cannot?"

"I," I started, faltering. "I don't know. But-"

"Master Baggins," Thorin said impatiently, turning away with finality. "Your contract states that you will act as the company burglar. Should we require your opinion on matters outside your profession we will be sure to call upon you."

With only a few words Thorin had not only negated my concerns but also reminded me of how little he valued my thoughts. It was even likely that he was not just referring to our current conversation but our short talk in Rivendell. In that moment I had never thought of Thorin more as a prince before or since. He certainly had the politics down pat. It was almost impressive.

That didn't mean I didn't want to punch him though.

I let out a breath that sounded more like a hiss. After counting backwards from ten, I finally replied, "Of course. My apologies, it won't happen again."

I met Balin's eyes briefly before turning away. He looked apologetic and even a bit appalled. I could only hope that his dismay was because of Thorin and not me.

Furious, I marched back to the campfire. The dwarves were unnaturally quiet and I had no doubt they had been listening intently to my conversation with Thorin. Great.

I plopped down onto the ground gracelessly, suddenly feeling very tired. I ignored the dwarves muttering between themselves, intent on staring into the fire until I passed out. I missed Gandalf. I missed my grandma. I missed Hayley.

After I don't know how long, someone stopped next to me and I was forced to put my sulking on hold. Glancing up, my eyes met Nori's.

"Evening," Nori said casually, peering down at me.

I sighed. "Hello."

Nori shifted a little, pulling something out from behind his back. "Got somethin' for ya."

I eyed him warily. "A stolen something?"

Nori shrugged, unconcerned. In his hand was a book of all things. "Here," He said pushing it into my hands. "Thought you might like it. Consider it payment."

My attention switched from the book back to Nori, surprised. "Payment for what?"

Nori, however, didn't say. Instead he winked at me and turned away to sit with his brothers. That was not his best move, in my opinion, because as soon as he sat down Dori began what could only be a furious lecture. Poor Ori was scribbling franticly into his journal, likely trying to ignore his brother's scolding. I was lucky I could not hear it.

I turned my attention back to the book. It was large, clearly made by men or elves, but written in the same language as the contract Gandalf had me sign. The title was faded and the leather worn. It was clearly either old or well used or both.

I did not admire my new possession for long, however, as soon enough two bodies dropped down next to me, one on either side.

"What's this now, Bilbo?" Kili wanted to know, leaning in close.

I rolled my eyes. They had seen the exchange well enough, nosy punks. "A gift."

I carefully slipped a finger between the pages, opening the book in my lap. Inside were pages upon pages of writing, interspersed with incredibly detailed drawings of plants and flowers. Against my wishes, my throat began to close up and my eyes watered. Nori was much more thoughtful than he appeared.

On my right, Fili hummed thoughtfully. "Useful that. Might want to let Oin take a look, though he likely knows everything in there already."

"Or Ori," Kili chimed in. "He'd love to get his hands on it even if it was written by elves."

"Yes, I'll do that tomorrow." I agreed, running my finger over a drawing of what looked like lavender. It was beautiful.

Fili gave me a look. "Won't you be reading it first, Bilbo?"

I opened my mouth, unsure of how to respond, and then closed it. Finally I settled on the truth.

"I cannot read it." I admitted quietly, hoping the rest of the dwarves would not hear me. After Nori had given me his gift, the rest of the dwarves seemed to have taken that as a signal that all was well again. Each one of them had slowly turned back to their own devices.

Scanning the camp quickly, I was relieved to see that the others were paying us no attention. Dori and Nori were sniping at each other, Ori was steadfastly ignoring them, Gloin and Oin seemed to be discussing whether Gimli- Gloin's son- would take up an axe or warhammer when he came of age, Bifur and Bofur were absorbing in whittling, and Bombur seemed to have drifted off into a doze.

"Is the light too dim?" Kili asked curiously. "Can you really see so poorly?"

I shook my head, trying not to feel ashamed. "I cannot read the words because I cannot read at all, Kili."

I had stunned the two young dwarves into silence.

"You cannot read," Kili repeated, incredulous.

Well, I could read English, of course. French, too, when I tried hard enough. But whatever this world's written language was? No.

To keep things uncomplicated, I confirmed it. "Yes, that's right."

"You had all those books in the Shire, I saw them," Fili reminded me. "Why keep them around?"

I racked my brain for an excuse. Fili was right. Bag End was full of books. Bilbo was unarguably an avid reader if not a scholar. How could I explain? I quickly came to the conclusion that I couldn't. So I stretched the truth.

"They were my mother's." I told them quietly.

Fili and Kili went very still. I had hoped, for a brief moment that my answer was enough to dissuade them from asking anymore questions. I should have known better.

"Your mother's," Fili asked cautiously. I nodded.

"You have a mother?" Kili wondered, awestruck.

I shot him an annoyed look. "Doesn't everyone?"

Kili visibly backtracked. "I only meant. Well."

"Yes, I have one." I told them, concluding that I had no choice but to elaborate on my white lie. "After she left my father kept them. Nostalgia. But neither of us could read."

"She _left_?" Kili blurted out.

I did not feel Fili reach around me to smack his brother but I heard his hand hit the back of Kili's head quite clearly.

"Apologies, Bilbo," Fili said softly. "We don't mean to pry."

I sighed, relieved that they were dropping the subject. "It's fine." I paused, looking down at my book and then back up at Fili. An idea struck me. "But perhaps you would be so kind?"

I held out the book to Fili. He stared at it in incomprehension. His eyes moved from the book to my face to Kili and then back.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Would you be willing to read to me?"

Fili's mouth fell open. I had no doubt that Kili's face looked similar. Eventually Fili closed his mouth and nodded wordlessly, pulling the book gently out of my hands.

He cleared his throat, in a way that I would almost call nervous. "Where should I start?"

It was Kili's turn to assault his brother, shoving him roughly, "At the beginning, of course, rocks-for-brains."

And so Fili did. His voice was low and steady, describing to us what sort of healing plants could be found in the wilds of the West, including, to the two dwarves astonishment, a weed called Kingsfoil. He continued to read even after Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin returned to camp until the fire died down to glowing embers.

I was in such a good mood that night I did not even glare at Thorin. Much.

* * *

Three days later I wanted nothing more than to throw an "I told you so" into Thorin's stupid face. A storm had come upon us so quickly that it was if it appeared between one blink and the next. And it wasn't a gentle storm either but closer to an absolute hurricane that battered us into the side of the mountains. It became more and more difficult to see the path in front of us, and I was not certain that Thorin had chosen the correct paths at the four different forks we had encountered.

And so we were stuck between a mountain and a storm. We had no choice but to push forward through the wind and rain. I remember thinking that the storm had to stop at some point right?

But it did not stop. The sky remained dark, the wind howled, and the rain continued as a steady downpour. As the thunder rolled overhead and lightning flashed across the sky we pressed on.

I was miserable. The rain and wind made it nearly impossible for me to see and I did not have the tough boots like the dwarves. It was a challenge to keep upright and I was quite sure the only reason I had not fallen over the edge of the path was because of Dwalin's steady hand on my shoulder. Anytime I tripped, which was embarrassingly often, Dwalin would right me almost immediately and give me what was almost a gentle push to continue on.

We persistent on like that for I don't know how long, the sky was so grey it was impossible to see the sun's position. We climbed higher and higher, the path becoming narrower and the thunder, if possible, louder.

I stumbled and was hauled up by Dwalin for what must have been the hundredth time when the thunder above us let out a deafening crash.

Thorin seemed to have realized that this was a terrible idea because in front of me I heard him shout, "We must find shelter!"

Next to me Dwalin went very still. Then, "Look out!"

I looked up, catching movement in my peripheral vision. It was difficult to see through the rain but what looked like a giant boulder came hurdling through the air towards us.

It was a giant boulder, I confirmed a split second later, because its impact with the mountain above us caused us all to stumble.

Dwalin had excellent reflexes because no sooner had the boulder hit that he was already pulling me close, pressing us both against the mountainside. What happened next was an avalanche. Not a huge one mind you, but certainly impressive. Around me, I could hear the dwarves shouting at their kin and likely bracing themselves.

"This is no thunderstorm," Balin shouted above the storm. His voice, I could hear, was tinged with horror. "This is a thunder battle!"

Before this I had thought I grasped an understanding of the world of Middle Earth well enough. I accepted there were trolls, orcs, and yes even dragons. But what I saw that day was absolutely mind blowing.

The stone giants were huge, scaling the mountains like they were nothing. They tossed huge boulders back and forth playing what I could only guess was some sort of mess-up game of dodgeball. And their game was moving dangerously, uncomfortably, close.

And then it happened. The mountain itself began to move. I stared up in horror. We were standing on one of the giants.

What came next was a blur. I was pressed solidly between Dwalin and Bofur, grasping helplessly against what I discovered was the giant's leg, and was whipped back and forth like a terrible amusement park ride. And then the dwarves began shouting again, and the mountainside became far too close for my comfort.

Then there was the impact. I had been in one car accident in my life, when I was seventeen. I had run a red light going a cool forty miles per hour and had summarily t-boned the car that had the right of way. This was almost like that but a thousand times worse. The whiplash came first followed by the unpleasant experience of my body hitting a solid stone wall.

What happened next was the recoil. I groaned in pain, stumbling back trying to get my bearings and then I fell. Not far, but certainly over the edge of the cliff. Desperate, my fingers caught onto the rough side of the mountain, thankfully stopping my fall.

But that was the dilemma. How to get back up?

I was still dazed and I could hear the dwarves shouting above me, likely doing a headcount. I wanted to scream but nothing came out. It was as if my voice had been knocked out of me.

And then, sweet observant Bofur, caught on that not all was well in hobbit-land. "Where's Bilbo? Where's the hobbit?"

I could pinpoint the exact moment when the dwarves had realized where I was. There was a lot of panicked shouting followed by Bofur and Ori appearing over the side of the cliff, arms extended towards me. But I was too far.

I won't lie, I was terrified. I did not want to die, falling from a mountainside. But most importantly, I realized with a sickening jolt, I would likely be killing Bilbo too. How could he return to Middle Earth if his body was splattered against stone?

I was so wrapped up in my terror that I did not notice Thorin until he was next to me. He grabbed my shoulder, hauling me above his head as if I weighed nothing right into Dwalin's outstretched arms.

As soon as I felt solid ground beneath me I took in a gasping breath. I had not even realized that I had stopped breathing.

Dwalin pushed my shoulder roughly, giving me a once over, undoubtedly checking me for injuries. Behind him I could see Thorin being pulled up by his nephews.

"I thought we'd lost our burglar," Dwalin shouted.

I opened my mouth, eyes on Thorin, ready to thank him but was cut off.

"He's been lost ever since he left home," Thorin declared, voice cold. "He should never have come. We should have never given him that contract, he has no place among us burglar or not."

My mouth snapped shut. It hurt, what Thorin had said. I wanted to say something, anything, to argue with his conclusions. But he was right.

Thorin turned away, summarily dismissing me probably for the last time. He moved further up the path, stopping at a black gap in the stone. He turned back, motioning with his head towards the inky blackness next to him, "Dwalin."

Dwalin, without hesitating, rose to follow. But before he left, his hand gently rested on my head for a brief moment. I had no doubt that it was not by accident.

The dwarves had finally sorted themselves just as Thorin and Dwalin reappeared, calling that they had found shelter.

If I had been in a normal state of mind I would have been suspicious of the convenience of it. A cave so high up a mountain? Just as we had gone through a terrible ordeal?

But at the time, I was nothing but grateful. All I wanted was to be out of the damned rain and _sleep_.

As we prepared for bed, the company was quiet. The dwarves seemed to stick close to their family members as if to reassure themselves that they had all survived. Thorin had forbidden a fire and so we were wet and cold as many of us pressing together to retain body heat.

I was not among them.

As exhausted as I was, and cold as I was, I huddled against the wall alone. Call it a form of self-punishment but I did not want to socialize.

But dwarves, I had learned, were never very accommodating.

Long after everyone settled in for the night, only Bofur and I were left awake or at least obviously awake. Bofur had been assigned watch and I- well, I was still shaken by my near-death experience.

I was so shaken that I did not notice Bofur press up against me until a long line of heat grew along my side.

Startled, I looked up. Bofur was not watching me, though, but making a show of keeping watch. His face was turned towards the cave entrance but I could feel his attention on me regardless.

"Good evening Bofur," I said quietly, mindful of the rest of the company.

"Bilbo," Bofur replied, easily enough. There was a pause and then, "You alright there, Master Hobbit?"

I felt a smile curl at the corner of my mouth despite everything. I could not seem to ignore my fondness for Bofur.

"Yes," I assured him, leaning back and using my pack as a cushion against the cave wall. "Of course. And you, Master Dwarf?"

I could feel more than hear Bofur's small chuckle. "Very well, thank you kindly."

There was another longer pause before Bofur said, "Quite an interesting adventure this is shaping up to be, aye?"

I let out a startled laugh that sounded more like a sob. "You have no idea." I swallowed and then admitted, "Thorin was right, you know. I am lost."

More than he ever knew.

Bofur laid a comforting hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. "Now, it isn't so bad as all that- oi. What's that?"

I looked up at his question. His eyes were not on me, not really, but on the sword that was still at my hip.

The sword that, I could see through its scabbard, was glowing blue. And I was sure my imagination was not causing the cave floor to creak and groan.

Oh, shit.

Thorin, it seemed, was not sleeping at all and had arrived to the conclusion that I had.

"Wake up," He shouted franticly. "Wake up!"

And for the second time that day, I fell.

It was a sudden sickening drop. For a few chaotic moments we all slid together, crashing into each other and the stone tunnel surrounding us. And then we landed in an ungraceful heap.

Dazed, I pushed myself out from underneath Dori as quickly as possible. Using one hand for leverage and the other to rub at my jaw where one of the dwarves had clipped me during our drop, I struggled to find my bearings.

Once I had, I almost wished that I was still disoriented. Because that was when I laid my eyes on my first goblin. Or goblins, rather. They were smaller than orcs, much closer to my size than an elf or man, with pale waxy skin and scraggly hair. There were so many, appearing almost out of thin air, pulling and pinching at us with no sympathy and great enthusiasm hissing insults at us all the while.

We all struggled to right ourselves, pushing weakly at the goblins. I could feel them tugging at my pack, ripping away my waterskin and bedroll. I ducked down, hoping to put myself out of their reach.

And I was amazed to find that it worked. Whatever goblins that were assaulting me, quickly moved on to the next in our company when they lost their grip on me.

I took a few deep breaths, squeezing my eyes shut and listening to their clamor move farther and farther away. Finally, I summoned enough courage to open my eyes.

It was then that I got my first real glimpse of what I would later learn was called Goblin Town.

It was absolutely fascinating, truth be told, and almost reminded me of the treehouse my dad had attempted to build me for my seventh birthday: rickety, unstable, and haphazardly put together.

I took in my surroundings quickly, watching in horror as the dwarves were shepherded farther away across bridges and scaffolding.

Now what?

I bit my lip, taking a step forward to follow, with no real plan in mind. I remember thinking that perhaps my hobbit magic could get me close enough to wherever the dwarves were being taken but what could I do after that? What would happen to them? The goblins seemed crueler and more intelligent than the trolls and I had no doubt that they had sinister plans for the company.

But before I could even make it over the first bridge I was attacked.

A lone goblin, whether a straggler or a simply a lazy lump I did not know, but it was certainly capable enough to knock me down. The goblin loomed over me, grinning, as I helplessly drew my sword and swung it in the goblin's direction. I could feel my blade hit its leg as the goblin howled in pain. I scrambled to my feet quickly, praying that the goblin's screech would not draw its brethren. I raised my sword ready to strike again when the goblin raised its own weapon once more, knocking me back with the force of its blows. I had no choice but to retreat and that was my gravest error. Goblin Town was situated along cliffs deep within the mountain and its terrain was treacherous at best. I could feel my ankle twist painfully and that was when I tumbled backwards with the goblin, thanks to its overenthusiasm in killing me, following close behind.

There was a heart stopping moment when the two of us tumbled down the stone slopes before going right over the edge.

For the third and what I had truly believed was the final time, I fell.

And everything went black.

* * *

I don't know how long I was out until the light woke me up. It could have been minutes or hours, I had no way of knowing. What I did know was that I was not in any pain. This was alarming as I remembered quite clearly falling over the edge of Goblin Town. Instead I felt nothing at all and all I could see was white.

I won't lie, I panicked. Was I dead? Oh, God, Bilbo. I had ruined everything.

"_Peace._"

I froze, eyes scanning the infinite white frantically. That was not my voice, as Laura or as Bilbo, and it was not one I recognized. It was female, I thought, but couldn't be certain. I didn't so much as hear its words as felt them.

"_You are very brave, child. Brave and clever."_ The voice said, soft and soothing, "_We chose well."_

Chose? _Chose?_

Oh hell no.

If this was one of those Valar someone was going to get punched.

"_We have not much time_." The voice continued, sounding firm. "_You must be careful. The world's fate has unraveled and you must take your part in weaving it. Darkness lies before you. A great and terrible darkness that will destroy you if you are not cautious as it has done to so many others."_

No. No thank you.

The voice ignored me. "_It is laid upon you to bear it, though we wish it were not so. I am truly sorry."_

Wait. Wait, why? Why me?

But the voice did not answer. And then the light faded.

I blinked quickly, my eyes adjusting to the dark. Like a tidal wave, pain washed over me. I resisted the urge to groan. I felt like I had been beaten with a tire iron and then hit across the head a few times for good measure.

Son of a bitch.

I did not try to move, not for a long time, and took inventory of my situation. I had fallen off a cliff fighting a goblin and had, against all odds, survived. Then I was visited by some cryptic asshole light. And now I had woken up here, wherever here was.

I sighed, deciding to see just how bad off I was. I wiggled my toes and my fingers. Check. Knees and elbows? Check. Neck? Check.

Thank God.

I tilted my head, catching a light out of the corner of my eye. Through the giant mushrooms I was surrounded by- apparently what I had to thank for breaking my fall- I could see my sword lying only a few feet away and glowing a pale blue.

Well that wasn't good. Had the goblin survived the fall as well? I was so not up for round two.

Before I could muster enough energy to sit up, a noise broke through the silence.

I realized, belatedly, as it drew close that it was something moving.

Please don't be the goblin, please, I thought desperately. Please don't let them find me.

"Yes," whatever it was hissed out, "Yes!"

There was a snarl that I recognized came from a goblin. My friend had survived after all. And then there was the sound of something being dragged across the rock floor.

I held my breath, tilting my head slowly to try and get a better look. What I saw was no goblin but something infinitely more spine-chilling.

It was a tiny thing, really, no bigger than I was, with pale grey skin and a thin, almost skeletal body. But what were most unsettling were its eyes. Large and bulbous, they glowed in the dark much like the dwarves' eyes did. But these eyes were empty and cold and when I looked at them I could not help but shiver.

This creature, whatever it was, was not a friend of that I was certain.

My suspicion was confirmed not a moment later when the goblin, likely in a last ditch attempt to save itself, lunged at the little creature. The creature reacted immediately, raising a grapefruit sized rock that I didn't even know it had, and smashed it repeatedly against the goblin's skull. And then something dropped, I could hear it even above the struggle. It was metal, I thought, and likely small.

I could only stare in horror as the goblin fought a losing battle, eventually going limp from a well-placed blow.

Feeling sick, I watched the creature drag the goblin away further down what I hazard to guess was an underground gully.

I took in a few shallow breaths and listened carefully as the creature moved further and further away. I counted backwards from twenty and then again for good measure before I slowly pushed to my feet.

My body screamed in pain, every bone and muscle straining to keep my upright. After a few long seconds and a couple deep breaths I finally moved towards my sword.

Kneeling down, I wrapped my hand shakily around the hilt and I was just about to stand back up when something glittered on the cave floor.

Frowning, I held out my sword to act as a meager flashlight. And then I saw it.

A ring.

It was gold, I could see, and it was unimpressively plain. But I had found it and that meant it was _mine_.

I shook my head, trying to banish that strangely possessive thought. Reaching out, my fingers closed tightly around the ring. I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

I brought the ring up to examine it, figuring I could get at least a somewhat good look my new acquisition but found that the light of my sword had gone out.

Instantly any thoughts of the ring were chased from my mind. That was not good.

I turned to look down the crevice where I had last seen the creature disappear to. Nothing.

I needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. Preferably without ever having to see that creature again.

Not wanting to spend a moment longer anywhere that thing might get me, I brought my hand up to my waistcoat and deposited the ring into one of the pockets of my waistcoat. Determined to find my way out, I followed the wall of the narrow chasm only to find a dead end and absolutely no escape. Not to be deterred I followed the opposite wall back to my mushrooms only to be disappointed again.

After running along the walls twice with no luck, I took maybe three steps in the opposite direction of where the creature had gone when I heard a bloodcurdling shriek.

"My precious! My birthday present! Where is it?"

Uh-oh.

I put on a little more speed, running my hand along the cave's wall as a guide instead of relying on my eyes in the dim light.

And then I heard it. The thing was moving with astonishing speed, scrambling against the stone underneath it, its breathing heavy with either anxiety exertion or possibly a mixture of both.

I realized that I could not out run it and so I did the only thing I could think of: arm myself.

I pulled my blade out quickly and turned to face the creature only to find it not a yard away staring at me. I stared back.

We assessed each other warily before it hissed out, "What is it, precious? What is it? It's got an elvish blade."

I cleared my throat nervously. "I'm a hobbit."

"A hobbit?" It wondered, moving closer. I thrust my sword in its general direction causing it to leap back and snarl in dismay. "We like goblinses batses and fishes but we haven't tried hobbitses before."

And never would if I had my way.

I decided to take a risk and try to reason with the creature. "I'm Laura. Laura Aldine. And I don't know where I am but I'd like to leave. Can you help me?"

The creature made a terrible swallowing noise in response, "Gollum, gollum," Before saying, "Perhaps, perhaps not, precious. Perhaps you sit and chats a bit with us. It likes riddles, perhaps the hobbit does."

No, no, no thank you. I could do math and equations but word games? Hell no.

"I'm afraid not," I tell the creature- Gollum, for lack of better name. A thought occurred to me. "But correct me if I'm wrong but was that you shrieking a moment ago? Maybe there's something I can help you with?"

Gollum reared back from where it was trying to circle me. "No," It snapped, "None of its business."

"Oh," I said casually, making a show of looking away and shrugging. I could practically feel the adrenaline rushing through me. "That's too bad. Because I found something not too long ago over here," I gestured towards where the goblin had landed. "And I thought perhaps it was yours."

It was a split-second later that I figured out that I had made a huge mistake. Gollum's face contorted with absolute fury. "You!" It shrieked, "You stole it from us!"

Then it lunged.

I was completely surprised at my own reflexes, lifting my sword to slash defensively at the attacking creature. I was in luck, feeling the blade slice through flesh. Gollum stumbled away, spitting and snarling.

"Listen," I said, panting and trying to get my words out as quickly as possible in order to prevent Gollum from attacking me again. "Listen. I'll give it back. I will."

I could see Gollum freeze a few feet away from me. It turned to look at me and I caught a glimpse of the thin cut across its shoulder from my hit. Even though it was bleeding and the light was horrible, it looked shallow.

"You show me the way out," I offered anxiously, hoping it wouldn't catch my lie, "And you can have your- your birthday present back, okay? I give you my word. I just want to get out of here."

Gollum hissed out a breath, gaze turning inwards. It then, to my utter bewilderment, began to have a conversation with itself. After a few minutes of debating out loud- one of the options was to strangle me and just take back the ring and another was to simply drown me- it seemed to come to a decision.

"Yes," Gollum said finally, looking like it was trying its best to seem agreeable. "We will show nasty little Aldine the way out. But first you give us the precious."

Despite the gravity of the situation, I snorted. "No way."

Its face contorted straight back to murder.

"I did hear your conversation you know," I informed it. I watched as its face fell. "I'd rather not be drowned or strangled or eaten if it's all the same to you."

Gollum actually huffed. I shook my sword at it, reminding it of the damage I had just inflicted on it, meager as it was.

It rolled its eyes at me. "Very well, precious. But," Gollum's eyes narrowed. "Promise us."

"I promise," I replied, crossing my fingers behind my back.

It moved past me with a grace and speed I would have never had guessed such an awkward-looking creature possessed. "This way, Aldine, this way."

Going against every instinct that was screaming at me, I sheathed my sword and followed.

It took us a long time to reach a recognizable path. After squeezing itself through a barely-there crack in the cave wall I had missed in my own investigations, Gollum moved swiftly through the narrow passage taking lefts and rights seemingly at random. I followed as closely as I could, figuring if this was all a trap then I could at least try and be close enough to skewer Gollum with my sword.

Finally we emerged from the confining passageway and into what looked remarkably like a hallway. It was dark and damp as the rest of the cave but down a bit to the left was a bright light.

Sunlight.

Oh my God.

"The backdoor," Gollum hissed. "The backdoor and the way out. Yes, precious."

"Yes," I agreed, relieved. I slung my pack back over my shoulders, having removed it to fit through the crack in the wall. "Excellent. Well done."

Gollum turned to me, blocking the path, likely strategically, that led towards the light. "And now, hobbit, you give back what you stole from us."

I swallowed, suddenly guarded. I had promised the creature the ring didn't I? I owed it that much for not eating me after all. But as I reached into the pocket of my waistcoat I felt more and more reluctant. Gollum had dropped it hadn't he? It was mine now. I found it fair and square.

Frowning, I opened my fist to reveal the ring, watching as Gollum's face morphed into an almost euphoric expression.

"Yes," Gollum breathed out. "Yes, my precious. My birthday present. Give it to me. _Give it to me_."

No.

I took a deep breath, pulling my closed hand back towards me, sealing my fate in more ways that I could have ever guessed.

Gollum's face contorted, eyes narrowed and sharp pointed teeth bared. "It promised us! It promised us the precious! Filthy liar!"

This time I was not so lucky. Gollum hit my middle with all the force of a linebacker, effectively knocking me back and knocking the air out of my lungs in one fell swoop.

I tripped backward, landing heavily on my pack and struggled to keep Gollum's hands away from my throat. I could feel my grip on the ring loosen as I tried to pry Gollum grip off of me. And then the ring fell. On instinct I reached out, fumbling with the ring for a brief moment before securing it haphazardly over the first knuckle of my index finger.

Taking a risk, I pulled my left fist back and swung, relieved to feel my knuckles connect with its jaw.

Gollum howled in pain, stumbling off of me. This opening gave me just enough time to give it an extra kick and scramble away out of reach. Instead of lunging at me for a second round, Gollum stared at me in horror before screeching, "No!"

Surprised, I held my breath. I felt like I had just been ducked into ice-cold water. And since when did everything get so fuzzy and grey?

"No!" Gollum screamed again, pushing its hands across the ground in horror as if searching for something. "My precious! Where is it?"

I watched, stunned, as Gollum's eyes roamed over and around me almost as if it couldn't see me.

My eyes widened in realization. It couldn't see me.

Still wary, I felt my fingers curl around a small pebble on the cave floor. Raising my arm in the same way my dad had taught me to pitch I tossed the pebble over Gollum's shoulder and towards the light.

There was a split second where Gollum fell silent and then it snapped its head back and lunged towards where the sound had come from.

"Thief! Filthy lying thief! My precious!" It cried out desperately. "My own!"

In that moment I felt an unexplainable urge. An urge to take out my sword and shove it through the back of the creature's bald head, silencing it forever.

But that was not me. Horrified, I shook my head, expelling the thought. I didn't want to kill this creature. I couldn't.

It's important to know when to spare a life, not take one. And I would spare Gollum's.

So instead, I pushed to my feet and quietly took a few steps back. Then, once I was sure that Gollum did not hear me, I turned and ran as quickly as I could back into the mountain. Back towards Goblin Town.

Not my best idea, I admit.

But I did not know where the dwarves were, or even if they had made it out. I had to go look for them. Or at least any evidence of them having passed through. With any luck I would find a few goblin corpses with an axe or two embedded in their skulls or spines which would mean I could safely get my ass out of Goblin Town. Though, I would be pissed if they had left me behind.

Not more than five minutes later, I heard a tremendous crash up ahead. It was a cross between an explosion and something large collapsing. Not even bothering to consider going back towards where Gollum was still mourning I decided, against my better judgment, to investigate.

Rounding the corner, I was absolutely shocked to see Gandalf. And not just Gandalf but the entirety of the company in a tangled heap underneath what looked like a collapsed bridge and the fattest goblin I had ever had the misfortune of seeing.

I walked quickly towards them, relieved that we had, against all odds, found each other again.

Then, as I heard the muffled sounds of the debris being moved, I realized I was still wearing the ring. I removed it with a simple tug, a bit perturbed to find that it fit perfectly, and put it back into the safety of my waistcoat pocket.

"What," I wanted to know, "happened to all of you?"

Gandalf turned immediately, grey eyes widening in surprise. "Bilbo!"

I could hear the dwarves echo my name in confusion.

"Hello, Gandalf," I said to the wizard as I moved to stand next to him. "Nice to see you've caught up with us."

Gandalf let out a huff of a laugh. As one, we turned to the pile of dwarves.

"Honestly," I said, rolling me eyes as I held out my hand to Ori and helped him pull free of the wreckage. "I get separated from you all for only a few," Hours? Days? Who could say? "Moments," I settle on, "And this is what you get into?"

Fili groaned as he pushed himself out from beneath a heavy looking beam. "Very funny."

I grinned at Balin, holding tightly to his elbow and giving him a sharp pull. Balin smiled back looking equal parts relieved and exhausted.

"Good to see you, lad," Balin whispered to me, patting my shoulder companionably. "I was afraid we'd lost you."

"You did," I told him, "But not for long."

"Gandalf," Kili called urgently from the pile, "Gandalf!"

Together Balin and I turned to look at what had Kili so nervous only for my stomach to drop. Over the crest of the slope came a horde of goblins. And they did not look happy.

"Only one thing will save us," Gandalf declared, already turning towards the path that I had come from. "Daylight! Come, quickly now!"

So we ran. The dwarves, despite their fall, were quick on their feet easily outpacing me.

I stumbled a bit, still out of breath from the cold that came from the use of my ring, only to have Bombur haul me to me feet and push me ahead of him.

The two of us were the last in the group and as we moved closer to the exit, already in view, I was relieved to see that Gollum had disappeared.

With one last spur of energy we ran into the light.

And then we were safe, leaving Goblin Town behind us.

Or so I thought. With these dwarves it's always out of the frying pan and into the fire.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** I want to thank you all for the favorites and follows since the last chapter.

I've gone back and edited chapters one through three of grammatical and spelling mistake so I hope I've caught all of them. If you see anything I've missed (which is incredibly possible) let me know.

This chapter is mostly filler and relies heavily on a few book scenes but I tried to twist them to fit both with the movie and its characterization of the dwarves, with Laura added into the mix, in particular. Relationships are starting to develop between Laura and a few more of the dwarves, in both big and small ways, and I'm excited for them to unfold.

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing except Laura.

* * *

The whole adventure had been a disaster, really. That was what I decided as we all sprinted, partly out of our eagerness to be out of that damn mountain and partly out of our inability to slow down, across the mountain's slope away from Goblin Town. It seemed at every moment some new obstacle jumped in our way. First there were trolls, then orcs, then mountain giants, then goblins (and falls and Gollum and a strange ring).

Soon we came to a halt and for the first time it what felt like a long time we were truly able to catch our breath. I had stopped near Gandalf, who was busy counting the dwarves to be sure that no one was left behind. When he reached the number fourteen in his count we both sighed in relief. We had all made it.

I glanced up at Gandalf, only to find him already staring at me. "My dear girl," He said, so low that even I struggled to hear him, "you truly are extraordinary."

I could feel my face flush.

"Shut up Gandalf," I mumbled.

"How did you ever find your way through the goblin tunnels?" Gandalf wondered, giving me an once-over.

"How indeed?" Dwalin said dryly, coming up to stand closer to us. I couldn't help but notice that the rest of the company's attention was on us as well.

I gulped. "It's, uh, kind of a long story."

One that I did not want to share with the entire company, though I had no doubt Gandalf would be fascinated to hear about my visiting light.

"Ah, well," Gandalf seemed to be in a good enough mood to let it go for now. It was likely the adrenaline still running through him. Or whatever the equivalent was that wizards had. "I cannot tell you how relieved I am to see you."

"And I to see all of you," I admitted, smiling up at the wizard fondly. "When I couldn't find any evidence of the rest of you at the exit, I was worried."

Also really not interested in trying to sneak past Gollum but they didn't need to know that.

Dori looked caught between skepticism and being impressed. "And you came back for us then?"

"I," I started. "Well, yes, of course."

It was then that I caught Thorin moving towards me out of the corner of my eye. His shoulders were set and his mouth a thin determined line.

"Why did you go back?" He demanded eyes intense.

I stared back at him, trying to decide whether or not that was meant as a trick question. "What does it matter?"

"It matters," Thorin insisted, taking another intimidating step towards me. "I want to know. Why did you go back for us?"

I was at a loss. I composed my thoughts quickly. I realized that while this may not have been a trick question but how I answered was likely crucial.

I took a deep breath. Here we go. "I know you doubt me. And that's fine, I understand. I'm nothing special. I have no skills as a warrior, a traveler, or even as a burglar."

I raised my eyes to meet Thorin's. "I miss my home. Desperately. I think about it all the time." I smiled wryly, running a thumb absentmindedly underneath one of my pack's straps. "And I've only been away from it for a few months! I cannot even begin to imagine what it must be like for all of you. You have been away from yours for so long."

The dwarves were silent. Out of shock or maybe disbelief, I couldn't say.

"I can't offer you much," I told Thorin. "But I want to help you return home. That's why I went back. Whatever I have to do, I will."

Even if that meant returning to Goblin Town or being crushed by giants or eaten by trolls.

I was in this for the long haul, I realized with resignation. I was here until the end, whatever that end would be. I liked them all too much to back out now. Even Thorin no matter how angry he made me.

We were all silent for a long moment. And for the first time, Thorin was looking at me without anger or irritation or impatience but something else entirely.

But I did not have the chance to figure what exactly that something was because a howl interrupted our silence. It was a howl that even I could, unfortunately, recognize.

Wargs.

Well, shit.

"Out of the frying pan," Thorin whispered with horror. Was there no end to this bullshit?

"And into the fire," Gandalf finished, turning away. "Run. Run!"

And so we ran. We picked up speed quickly thanks to the mountain's incline working to our advantage. But, naturally, the wargs were faster.

The dwarves put up a valiant fight. In my peripheral vision I could see Dwalin, Thorin, and yes, even Ori take out a warg as we retreated. But then there was nowhere to go. We had reached a cliff that dropped off into a thick forest that was hundreds of feet below us.

Gandalf, however, had already come up with a plan. "Up into the trees! All of you, quickly!"

Um, trees. Right.

My height put me at a disadvantage immediately. Though we were all, apart from Gandalf, quite short, I was by far the shortest of us all. And the weakest.

I gazed up into the branches, forlorn. Maybe I could jump?

My problem was solved by Dori who stopped next to me. His arm shot out, his fist closed around my collar, and then he _threw me_ into the tree. It was absolutely incredible. I had no idea dwarves were so strong. I remember thinking Dori would win a gold medal in the Olympics for sure.

After I had grabbed hold of the first branch I could wrap my hands around, climbing the tree was easy. Though the branches were high up they were all quite close together and sturdy enough to hold me and the dwarves. Within moments Dori, Fili, and Kili were situated next to me. The rest of dwarves had found safety in the other trees nearby.

Not a heartbeat later, the wargs and orcs arrived. Wargs and orcs who were led by a huge white orc on top of a huge white warg.

Whoever this orc was, it was clearly the leader. And, if its pointing its mace at Thorin was any indication, it was a long-time enemy of the dwarves.

Great.

The white orc spoke for a few moments in grating harsh language that caused shivers to run up my spine. I couldn't understand most of it, but what I did hear was "Thorin" and "Thrain."

Azog, I remembered suddenly in a sickening rush, its name was Azog. From Azanulbizar. He was the one who killed Thorin's grandfather.

And then the wargs attacked or at least tried to. They snarled and snapped, surrounding the bases of our trees. After a few moments of futile howling they began to jump. And wargs? They could jump rather high.

"Gandalf," I called urgently.

Moments later our tree began to fall, pushed over from the force of the warg's bodies hitting it. Desperate, the four of us jumped gracelessly into the next tree and then the next when that one's roots began to snap as well. Finally all of us were in the same tree at the very edge of the cliff.

And it would be a very long fall.

I exchanged a glance with Fili, frightened. What now?

Then what looked like a tiny meteor shot from the top of our tree to land at the white warg's feet only to explode into flames. The wargs scattered.

Whoa.

"Fili!" Gandalf shouted, dropping one of the fireballs into Fili's hands. It was a pinecone. A flaming pinecone.

Thinking fast, I loosened a pinecone from the branch I was perched on and held it out to Fili who was tossing the fireball between his hands. Fili held his still long enough for mine to catch a spark before he threw his pinecone with a pretty impressive arch right into a warg's nose.

I grinned. Now this I could get behind. I didn't win all those midway baseball games at the fair for nothing.

I threw mine alongside Dori and Kili, pleased to see my pinecone hit a warg's shoulder causing it to scream in pain.

So we bombed the wargs. Pinecone after pinecone was thrown each with impressive accuracy to build a wall of fire between us and the orcs.

Azog roared in displeasure as we cheered.

And then our tree toppled over the cliff. It was an enormous oversight for none of us to notice that the base of our tree had caught fire but there we were. We were hanging precariously over the cliff with a huge drop below us and furious orcs and wargs above us.

"Mister Gandalf!" I heard Dori cry. I turned to look over my shoulder only for my stomach to drop. Gandalf was hanging from a precarious looking branch with Dori and Ori dangling from his staff.

Oh, God.

I was so wrapped up in my own fear that I did not notice Thorin until he was already passed me, sword in hand.

No. No, Thorin, don't you dare.

But he did. We all watched in horror as he charged towards Azog. And then, in a blink of an eye, he was knocked down.

Thorin valiantly rose to his feet, Orcrist grasped tightly only for Azog to swing his wicked-looking mace straight into Thorin's face sending him right back onto the ground. The white warg picked him up, eerily like a chew toy, and began swinging him back and forth with Thorin's torso lodged between its jaws.

I had to do something. I couldn't just- I had to save Thorin.

I hoisted myself up over my branch with no small degree of difficulty and clambered onto the trunk of the pine tree. I drew my blade, catching my balance and ran towards where Thorin had fallen.

By the time I reached him an orc had already dismounted and was gripping Thorin's hair tightly in one hand, exposing his throat. The other had held its sword high above its head, ready to fall onto Thorin's neck.

Hell no.

Without even thinking I lunged at the orc, sword extended. Though I was half its size I had enough momentum to knock it over and dislodge its sword from its hand. The orc roared in fury and raised a fist, hitting me just above the eye. It knocked me to the ground, looming over me. And so I did the only thing I could think of: I stabbed it.

I could feel my blade sink into its stomach. It was enough of a shock to send the orc toppling off of me. I gained my footing quickly. Raising my sword with both hands over my head, I knelt over the orc and drove my blade into its chest.

It roared wetly and so I stabbed it again, this time almost to the hilt. It let out one last scream before going limp.

It was dead.

Elated, I moved quickly to stand in front of Thorin, sword extended, looking over my shoulder for a brief moment to assess the damage.

My eyes met Thorin's. His face was contorted with pain but his eyes were huge with what I would almost call wonder or awe mixed with definite bewilderment, like he wasn't quite sure of what he was seeing. Confused but relieved to see that he was still alive I turned to face the orcs only to find Azog and half a dozen others flanking him.

Azog hissed something out in its language. An order, most likely, because the rest of the orcs moved towards me with malicious glee.

But they did not reach me. Because out of nowhere, Kili came rushing towards them, his sword slicing through the closest warg's face before he raised it again to knock the orc off its mount. Fili followed not a moment later, twin blades flashing as he lunged towards the next warg and rider. Then came Dwalin, warhammer in hand, connecting it solidly with a warg's jaw.

Well, then.

Not to miss out, I lunged into the fray, furiously swinging my blade, pleased when it connected with a warg's snout. And then I was pushed into the white warg. It shoved me roughly with its head, enough to knock me flat onto my back. And then it stood over me, great jaws open to reveal its long rows of incredibly sharp teeth.

This was it, I remember thinking, this was how I would die. I'm sorry Bilbo.

But then came the shrieking. It was a different sort of noise, different from the wargs and orcs. Different from the dwarves' battle cries. It was higher in pitch and sounded almost like an-

Eagle.

There were eagles coming. Not just any regular kind of eagle, either. These were huge massive creatures that made even the wargs look like mice in comparison. So much like mice, in fact, that the eagles were able to lift the wargs into the air and drop them straight into the forest below with little effort. The eagles that were not tossing wargs over the edge were pushing burning trees down upon those that were left on the cliff.

I don't know why I was so surprised. Middle Earth was never what I expected.

Then one came so close to me and Thorin that I could swear I felt its feathers against my cheek. It flew right past me and hovered in the air for a moment before gently picking Thorin up and flying away. Around it I could see more eagles doing the same to the others.

What.

I looked back to where Azog still sat upon its warg, its face contorted with rage.

Take that, bitch.

And then an eagle came directly towards me. It did not slow down as the first one did for Thorin, instead it came at me with speed, scooping me up into its claws and carrying me away over the cliff.

"No, no," I breathed out anxiously. It didn't listen. Instead, it dropped me.

I won't lie, I screamed. But it was short lived because I had fallen for only a few seconds before landing on the back of another eagle and taken away.

Oh. Well, that was alright, I suppose.

I turned my head to look behind me. I could see many more eagles swooping in towards the blazing cliff, grabbing dwarves and depositing them onto each other's backs the way they did to me.

And then we flew. We flew into the night until the sun began to rise.

To my left I could hear Fili shout Thorin's names fearfully. I squinted my eyes against the wind to try and spot Thorin only to stop breathing. He was limp in the claws of the eagle, limp and unmoving.

We travelled with the eagles for maybe an hour or so more, enough time for the sun to almost completely appear over the horizon.

And then we were dropped onto a huge rock outcrop that stood almost like a lone mountain in the winding valley below.

"Thorin," Gandalf was already shouting, "Thorin!"

By the time I had dismounted my eagle, Gandalf was bent over Thorin's prone body, mumbling a few worlds- a spell maybe?- with his hand hovering over Thorin's eyes.

And then, I could see even from my distance, Thorin took a shuddering gasp as his eyes fluttered open.

I sighed in relief.

The dwarves gathered around Thorin eagerly. Thankful, as I was, that Thorin was alright.

I could hear Thorin whisper something to Gandalf. Gandalf paused for a long moment, clearly thrown for a loop, before he shook his head and said, "It was Bilbo, Thorin."

Thorin pushed to his feet, shrugging off the helpful hands of Fili and Dwalin. Then he turned to me, assessing.

"You," He growled. There was a half-question in his voice.

Uh-oh.

Thorin said nothing for a long while, eyes roaming over me ceaselessly before stopping to meet my eyes. Whatever was going through his mind seemed to settle as the next words out of his mouth were: "What were you doing?"

Excuse me?

I took a half a step back. This was not at all what I was expecting but perhaps I should have known better. Our favorite medium of communication was arguing, after all.

Thorin took a step forward, "You nearly got yourself killed!"

I cleared my throat nervously, my eyes darting away and then back to Thorin's thunderous expression.

"Did I not tell you," Thorin asked relentlessly, "That it was a mistake to bring you along on this quest? That you were a burden."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes but barely. Oh, God, really? Did we have to go over this again? My self-esteem couldn't handle the constant abuse.

Thorin closed the space between us, his arms raised. "I have never been so wrong in all my life."

And then I was enveloped in the most bone crushing hug that I had ever received.

Thorin was hugging me. _Thorin _was hugging _me_. Willingly.

My mind short-circuited for a long moment before I finally realized, yes, it was actually happening. So I did the only thing I could think of: I hugged back.

Honestly, it was a pretty amazing hug. Despite Thorin smelling strongly of blood, warg spit, and body odor the hug was still warm and all-encompassing. I could feel my ribs creak under his strong grip but I couldn't bring myself to pull away.

Around us the dwarves cheered.

Finally, after a few heartbeats, we pulled apart but not entirely. Thorin's hand was still resting on my forearm, broad and warm.

"I am sorry I doubted you," He told me, shockingly sincere.

I smiled. "I think we both have more than enough to be sorry for, don't you?"

Thorin's mouth, for the first time, quirked up at the corners. It was almost a smile. Dear God, would wonders never cease?

Around us the eagles flew past, screeching in what I assumed was a good-bye.

Gandalf raised a hand and called out in reply, "May the wind under your wings bear you where the sun sails and the moon walks."

We all watched them soar off, turning towards the sunrise. And then I saw it.

"Is that," I started to ask, "Is that what I think it is?"

Holy shit.

"Erebor," Gandalf confirmed. "The Lonely Mountain. One of the last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle Earth."

"Our home," I heard Thorin breathe out next to me.

Even at a distance it was gorgeous.

We all stood in awe for a very long time, long enough for the sun to completely rise over the horizon. Then, by mutual agreement, we all decided it would be best to get down from wherever it was that we had been dropped by the eagles.

"It is called the Carrock," Gandalf informed us as we slowly descended, mindful both if the steep incline and of Thorin's not unsubstantial injuries. Whoever had been here before us had been nice enough to carve rough steps that coiled around the huge boulder.

"We are still some miles north of our intended path," Gandalf continued, using his staff to keep balance with one hand while his other hand brushed the stone, "And very few live in these parts but there is someone I know of who lives not far away."

"And this someone is a friend of yours?" I called from the back of the group. Dori- who seemed to have come to the conclusion that I cannot be trusted to climb trees _or_ descend tall stone towers on my own- was close behind with his arm outstretched at the ready.

Gandalf hummed in response, irritatingly neutral. Finally he admitted, "Not in so many words. Radagast knows him far better than I."

That was super reassuring.

"But we are in desperate need of help," Gandalf reminded me, "And so we are left with little choice."

And that was the last any of us said for the entirety of our climb. Finally, about an hour later, we reached flat ground.

As one, we all collapsed in relief. Nori landed next to me with a powerful sigh.

Gandalf did not join us, though.

"I think," He said thoughtfully, "It would be best for you all to remain here. I will go ahead and find us a place to rest. I will not be long."

None of us had the energy to argue. It seemed even dwarves had their limits.

Instead we all decided to do a quick inventory check. The results were not favorable. Almost all of the dwarves' belongings had been either lost or taken by goblins during our time in Goblin Town. Whatever they had was what they had in their clothing at the time, which was not much at all. Oin was especially displeased, having lost most of his medical supplies as was Ori who mourned the loss of much of his papers and ink. His journals, at least, were still intact.

It was determined quickly that I had come out the best from our detour. I had my pack on my lap, shifting through my meager belongings. I was relieved to see that my book had survived my many falls. I even still had my pocket knife, water skin, two extra shirts and even an extra pair of trousers. At the very bottom, I was surprised to see, was a small wrinkled apple and the half-full canister of ointment Oin had bestowed upon me at Rivendell for my hands.

This caused a bit of an uproar from Oin.

"I told you," He bellowed, louder than usual. Whether it was because he was genuinely angry or because he had lost his ear trumpet in the scuffle with the goblins, I didn't know. "To use all of that!"

I winced, raising my hands in a desperate attempt to show Oin that they had healed fine on their own. "Look!" I shot back, wiggling my fingers, causing the pink scars to move in the morning light, "They're perfectly fine and now you can use that for someone else's injuries."

It was at that point that I shot a meaningful look at Thorin.

Oin grumbled for a few more minutes but finally dropped the subject when I offered my extra shirts to be used for makeshift bandages. And so he turned his attention to Thorin. I did not envy him.

We all sat quietly listening to Oin now turn his full ire onto Thorin. There was little conversation as many of us were only a few moments from passing out.

Next to me, Nori made a miserable sound.

I looked over at him, curious. The look on his face was one of abject despair.

"What's the matter?" I asked him, trying not to sound worried. "You're not injured are you?"

Nori pulled himself out of his misery just enough to scoff at me. "No."

I blinked, confused. "Then what is it?"

Nori let out another mournful noise. "I lost them."

"Lost what?" I wanted to know.

"Everything!" Nori hissed out. "All my goods! Gone! Taken by those," It was here that he said what was undoubtedly a swear word in dwarvish, "goblins. They took everything I'd liberated on this venture."

Liberated. I grinned incredulously, unable to stop the giggle that bubbled out of me. I blamed the exhaustion and adrenaline crash. I laughed loudly for a few seconds only to be set off again into fresh peals by Nori's look of betrayal.

Once I had finished, I realized uncomfortably that the rest of the dwarves were staring.

"Uh," I said sheepishly, ducking my head. "Sorry."

After a few more moments of staring, the rest of the dwarves finally turned away back to their own devices. Relieved to have the attention off of me, I turned back to Nori.

"I'm sorry for your loss," I told him gravely.

Nori no longer looked dismayed but instead was staring at me in what I would almost call fondness.

"I'm sorry about your doilies," Nori replied slyly, already turning away. "I'm sure the goblins will appreciate them well enough."

My mouth dropped open in astonishment. That lying little shit.

Before I could even attempt to try and throttle Nori for stealing Bilbo's things, I felt a shiver run through me. Glancing up, I looked around at the group, trying to spot the source of my unease.

It was Thorin. Though Oin was doing an admirable job berating him, Thorin's attention was not on the healer in front of him. No, instead Thorin's full focus was directly on me. He had a frown on his face, though not one of anger, more of frustration. As if I was a particularly difficult puzzle that he couldn't quite figure out.

It was a bit alarming.

Luckily, not long after Oin began his assessment Thorin's injuries, of which there were many, Gandalf returned.

"Oh, good, you're all still here." Gandalf said, looking over us all as if he had expected one of us to have run off while he was gone, "This way, now. I've found a place that will be most adequate."

"And then?" Thorin asked impatiently, looking around Oin to meet Gandalf's eyes.

"We will rest there for the night," Gandalf told us calmly. "We are safe in these lands but our destination is still a good day's walk from here. It would be best for us to rebuild our strength before we move on."

It was a testament to our exhaustion when not even Thorin argued. Soon we were back on our feet with only a few groans and following Gandalf deeper into the forest.

Gandalf did not make us travel far, for which I was grateful. Soon we came to a stop at a small clearing surrounded by leafy trees and undergrowth, perfectly suitable for a hidden campsite. And not far away I could even hear the sound of water, likely the river we had flown over with the eagles.

I nearly leapt for joy at the sound. A river meant a _bath._

We all took part in setting up camp while Oin made a more comprehensive examination of Thorin's injuries. After we had all determined a good sleeping spot, collected firewood, investigated the river's rocky shoreline, and dug a shallow pit for a fire, Oin's assessment was complete. He would not start to patch up Thorin's injuries until they had been cleaned thoroughly to which all of the dwarves cheered and made towards the river.

I made to follow, if only to make sure they would all arrive safely, when I heard Gandalf call my name.

I stopped abruptly, allowing the rest of the dwarves to shove past me as they exited the clearing. I could see Thorin glance over his shoulder to watch me but he made no move to stay back.

Gandalf and I waited quietly until the dwarves loud conversations faded as they moved further away towards the river.

Finally, after he judged the dwarves to be an appropriate distance from us he said, "Laura there is matter that we must discuss."

I could feel butterflies in my stomach. That did not sound good. "What is it?"

"It is Thorin," Gandalf admitted to me, coming to stand closer. "He said something unusual atop the Carrock."

I frowned, dread settling in my stomach. I remembered how Thorin had stared at me at the base of the Carrock and then again not a minute ago. "What kind of something?"

Gandalf paused, deep in thought. And then he dropped the bomb. "He asked about a young lady that he had seen amidst the battle."

My stomach dropped completely. "What?"

Gandalf nodded, "He asked where the woman was that saved him, the one who slayed the orc that was going to cut off his head."

That was me. But how?

"Gandalf," I breathed out, panic settling into my voice, "How could he have known? How could he have seen me as, well, me?"

Gandalf looked just as worried as I felt. "I'm afraid I cannot answer that. Though I believe it may have something to do with Thorin's brush with death. Those sorts of experiences tend to grant one a bit of clarity."

A bit of clarity.

"So does he know?" I demanded.

"I do not believe so. Though," Gandalf smiled wryly, "I have no doubt Thorin will try to speak with me again about this matter. To try and suss out answers, of course."

Of course he would. Great.

"Do not be alarmed, my dear girl," Gandalf said after I did not reply for a time. "I will be sure to dissuade him. I only thought it right for you to know."

I smiled shakily up at him. "Of course, Gandalf, thank you."

Gandalf laid a comforting hand on my shoulder, smiling down at me. "Now, why don't you join our companions? You deserve a reprieve just as much as anyone else in this company."

My smile morphed into a grin. "No, thank you. I think I'll take my bath farther up river, if it's all the same."

Gandalf nodded amicably, turning away to rest on one of the fallen logs near the edge of the clearing. He then pulled out his pipe, lit it without a touch, and inhaled deeply.

I shook my head and left the clearing. Wizards.

As I moved up river through the forest, I wondered when would be the best time to speak with Gandalf about my visitor in the goblin tunnels. Now that Thorin's suspicions were raised, I was more wary of speaking with Gandalf about such things. I decided to find an opportunity on our hike the next day. Surely we would find some time alone.

But then, as I approached the river bank after deeming enough space had been put between me and the dwarves, there was the issue of my ring. Whatever it was, it was definitely magical if the apparent invisibility and shadowy vision it had granted me was any indication. It was also, I suspected, most likely evil in nature. You don't find cool power-ups in caves like that, not in the real world anyway, without consequences.

And I could not shake how it had made me think and behave, for however brief those moments were.

Yes, I determined as I stripped off my clothes, I would not use it again until Gandalf could take a look at it.

And then, finally, I got clean. I spent most of the morning scrubbing at my clothes and body using the sand at the bottom of the river as a makeshift scrub in an attempt to wash away the dirt and orc blood.

I hissed in pain several times during my bath, feeling the press of bruises along my back and jaw. I almost yelped when I attempted to clean my face, the space above my right eye flared painfully when I touched it. It looked like the orc I had killed had left a mark after all.

Despite the discovery of my injuries my time in the river was wonderful. After the sun had risen to the middle of the sky, I spread my clothes out on a nearby boulder to dry in the heat of the afternoon. And then I spent the rest of my time in the river, using the cold water to soothe my aches and listening halfheartedly to the distant echoes of shouts and laughter from downriver.

All in all, it was a good afternoon.

When the sun began to dip lower and lower in the sky, I finally scrambled out of the water, my fingers pruned but cleaner than I had been since Rivendell.

I had just finished pulling my suspenders over my shoulders when I heard a distant rustling in the forest. Wary, I bent down to retrieve my sword, holding the hilt tightly in one hand and its sheath in the other. I could hear the rustling grow closer and not a few heartbeats later did Fili and Kili crash through the trees and onto my shore.

Kili was the first to reach me, eyes roaming over me carefully as if reassuring himself that I was not hurt.

"Bilbo, are you alright?" Kili asked worriedly.

I could feel my eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. "Yes, of course, Kili. What's the matter? Not orcs again?"

Please, God, no.

"No!" Kili exclaimed, causing all the tension in my body to release immediately. "But no one knew where you were, Bilbo, and we thought, we thought-"

Oh. Touched, I couldn't help but smile.

"I'm quite alright," I assured Fili and Kili, "Thank you for your concern."

"Oh, good," Kili said, relieved. "Uncle was quite worried, you know."

I'll bet.

"But why are you out here alone, Bilbo?" Fili wanted to know, "You shouldn't wander."

Kili nodded in agreement. "Yes, why did you not bathe with the rest of us?"

I stared, unimpressed. I was really not interested in having this conversation. Somehow, no matter how kindly I might say it, the dwarves would likely take offence that I had absolutely had no desire to see any of them naked.

Eventually Fili and Kili began to shuffle uncomfortably under my gaze.

Finally I said, "Modesty, Kili. I cannot recommend it enough as a virtue."

That seemed to be enough of an answer for them, though I did not miss the look they exchanged that seemed to say, 'hobbits-really-are-strange-aren't-they?'

With speed, I grabbed the rest of my things, pulling on my newly cleaned waistcoat and jacket and strapping my sword back around my waist. With one last pat at my waistcoat pocket to assure myself that my ring was there, the three of us returned to camp.

The rest of the dwarves had already settled into their own activities by the time we had arrived. Gloin and Balin were sharpening their weapons. Ori was meticulously checking over his recovered journals with Nori next to him, cleaning his fingernails with a dagger. Dori was glaring murderously at Nori halfway across the camp with Bombur and Bifur next to him engrossed in conversation that consisted entirely of hand-signs while Bofur was apparently sleeping, slumped against a tree his hat over his eyes. Oin was finishing bandaging and lecturing Thorin with equal attention on both, as Dwalin sat nearby clearly overseeing the whole thing. Whether it was out of concern for Thorin or Oin, I wasn't sure.

And then there was Gandalf still puffing away at his pipe looking for all the world like he belonged exactly where he was: sitting on a fallen log in the middle of an uninhabited forest surrounded by thirteen dwarves and smoking weed.

It was quite a feat, really.

I made a beeline straight for Gandalf eager to collapse beside him and sleep for the next fourteen hours.

I had almost made it too, only to be stopped by Oin.

"And where," Oin demanded as he physically hauled me over to sit next to Thorin, "Do you think you're going?"

I didn't bother to answer, realizing it was pointless. Oin either wouldn't hear me or wouldn't care for my answer. Instead I turned to nod in greeting at Thorin and Dwalin. They nodded back.

"Take off your shirt." Oin ordered, turning away to sort through his meager medical supplies.

Um. No.

"I'm fine," I told Oin tiredly. "I just want to sleep, if you don't mind."

Oin turned back to me with an impressive scowl. "I do mind, laddie. I saw you in the middle of that scuffle and do not even consider pulling one over on me. I may not know much about hobbits but even I know you can't take more than a few hits."

I glared back, offended. I survived three falls, two one-on-one fights, and a damn orc battle for God's sake.

"Don't give me that look," Oin told me severely. "And take off your shirt or I will."

Well, that was vaguely threatening. I glanced over to Thorin and Dwalin.

"Best do as he says, burglar," Dwalin advised me with a shake of his head. "He's taken down warriors much larger and stronger than you. The sooner you listen, the sooner it's over."

Dwalin did have a point. Resigned, I did as Oin demanded. Stripping off my shirt, waistcoat, and jacket, I huffed indignantly and squirmed uncomfortably at my lack of clothing. This was absolutely ridiculous.

Oin, however, did not agree. He took his time looking over my injuries, cataloguing the bruises that ranged from yellow to green to blue, and tsk'ing over the cut through my eyebrow. Next to me Thorin and Dwalin had fallen deep into conversation in the dwarvish tongue, ignoring Oin and I completely.

Finally Oin had his fill of fussing over me, determining that I had taken on no lasting damage. Though, Oin pointed out, it was a wonder I was not paralyzed given the severity of the bruising on my back. He then pulled out the same canister he had given to me back at the troll cave. Dabbing his index finger in it, he gently administered it to the cut on my eyebrow, making sure it was covered completely.

"You will come back to me tomorrow morning for one last application," Oin told me as he put away the ointment. "I cannot spare much of it but one more dose should protect it from festering. We will watch it carefully. Wounds dealt out by orcs are quite dangerous even after the battle is long over."

I nodded to show I understood. Then a thought occurred to me. "Will it scar?"

"Yes," Oin said bluntly. "Had I the proper supplies it would be another story but as it is-"

I sighed unhappily, pulling back on my clothes. Hopefully Bilbo wouldn't mind when he got his body back. "I understand, Oin. Will that be all?"

Oin waved me off grumpily, turning to Thorin and Dwalin, likely to lecture Thorin a bit more. It seemed to be one of Oin's passions.

Free from my examination, I turned back to my original goal. Within moments I had reached Gandalf, who raised an eyebrow at me. I rolled my eyes at him, turned, and then collapsed against his side letting his warmth wash over me.

I released a shuddering sigh, exhausted.

Gandalf, thankfully did not move to push me away. Instead he raised a hand, gently running it through my curls, before removing it and leaving me as I was.

Between one heartbeat and the next I was asleep.

* * *

I woke up the next morning with my body well-rested but my mind spinning. I had slept deeply the previous night but with my deep sleep came terrible dreams. I couldn't remember what they were about but they left me feeling cold, washed-out, and scared.

As we got ready to move out, I hoped that the dreams were a one-off thanks to the battle the previous night, and pushed them to the back of my mind. Around me the dwarves were already packed and eager to move out as Gandalf counted us one last time before we began our day's journey.

It was an easy hike, truth be told, through the dense forest and then onto wet grasslands which was for the best. Thorin and I might have been the most injured but the others were still exhausted from Goblin Town and our battle with Azog. We moved slowly but steady, wary of whom exactly we were calling upon for help.

Gandalf refused to answer any questions, already annoyed that we were doubtful about the person we were visiting. So the dwarves talked amongst themselves, falling into their habit of swapping stories and singing songs to pass the time.

I rolled my eyes at Gandalf's theatrics but seized my chance to catch the wizard alone. Picking up my pace, and ignoring some of the looks I got from the dwarves, I moved to walk next to Gandalf who was already some distance ahead of the company.

"Gandalf," I called, stumbling a bit in my haste.

He slowed down considerably, glancing over his shoulder as I moved to walk next to him.

"Laura," Gandalf greeted me quietly.

I glanced up at him, adjusting my pack. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Hm?" Gandalf murmured, eyes flashing with curiosity. "And what might that be?"

"I met someone or something in the goblin tunnels," I told him. "I think it was one of the Valar."

Gandalf's full attention turned sharply to me, though to his credit he did not stop walking.

"Tell me everything." He instructed, "Leave nothing out."

And so I did. I explained how the light had enveloped me, that I had felt no pain but that something had been talking to me inside my own head. I repeated what the light had told me as best as I could remember it, watching Gandalf's face all the while.

Gandalf's expression did not change as my story unfolded, remaining one of unwavering interest. After I was finished he was quiet for a long time, nearly an hour, if I had to guess. I waited as patiently as I could. I wanted answers.

"Fate unraveled," Gandalf repeated to himself slowly, "Weaving. Darkness."

I nodded in confirmation but Gandalf was not paying attention. He was silent for a few minutes longer before he finally seemed to pull himself out of his thoughts.

"Tread lightly, Laura," Gandalf advised, breaking our silence.

I waited for a beat for Gandalf to continue. When it became obvious that was all he was going to say on the matter, I repeated, "Tread lightly? That's it?"

Come on Gandalf, throw me a bone.

Gandalf's eyes focused on me, narrowed. "Yes, and you will do well to remember my advice," Gandalf informed me sternly, "The world's fate has unraveled and you have been caught in the thick of it. Your actions will likely affect us all."

"Great," I shot back sarcastically, my stomach knotting uncomfortably. "No pressure, then."

"Such burdens are never easy to bear," Gandalf replied, not altogether unkindly, "But it is believed by Vairë that you will influence the world for the better and so that is how it must be."

But I didn't want to influence anybody.

I shook my head, unhappy. "And what about Bilbo?"

Gandalf went quiet. Then, "Perhaps you have come to protect him."

"Protect him," I repeated, "But how? He's not even here!"

"And perhaps that is best." Gandalf said, "'A great and terrible darkness that has destroyed others.' If the world's fate is being rewoven, it is possible that Bilbo may have been among them."

My heart sunk. Oh, no.

"Which is why," Gandalf continued, "You must tread lightly, my dear. If you are not careful such a darkness may destroy you in his stead."

"But what darkness?" I asked nervously. "That Saran guy, the root of all evil in Middle Earth you told me, was destroyed long ago."

"No," Gandalf countered impatiently, "I said he was defeated. It is possible that he could return, now more than ever."

Well, that sounded awful. But before I could demand that Gandalf elaborate, out of the corner of my eye I could see Thorin and Balin catching up to us swiftly. The rest of the dwarves, I noticed, were not far behind them.

Switching gears I asked, "What is the name of the man we are calling upon?"

Gandalf shot me a knowing glance, ignoring the approaching dwarves. "His name is Beorn and he is no man but a skin-changer."

Gandalf and I slowed down significantly allowing Thorin and Balin to join us. I eyed the thin sheen of sweat along Thorin's brow. His injuries were worse than he was letting us know. Not once, not in all the long hot days on that journey had I ever seen Thorin break a sweat. Not even with all of his ridiculous furs.

"A skin-changer," I questioned as Thorin pulled up next to me, "He can become different people?"

"No," Gandalf corrected, "Sometimes he is a huge black bear, sometimes a great strong man."

"And why," Thorin wanted to know, "Should we trust this skin-changer?"

Gandalf turned impatiently to Thorin. "Because we have little choice in the matter! We have no food, baggage, or ponies. And I fear without his help we will not last long and certainly not through Mirkwood forest."

Balin sighed, acknowledging Gandalf's point. "We will bow to your wisdom on this, Gandalf."

Gandalf sniffed in reply. "Good, we have arrived."

As one the company stopped on the top of gentle hill that loomed over huge fields of flowers and, if I wasn't mistaken, beehives. In the distance I could see a set of huge-looking buildings surrounded by stone walls and wooden fences.

"Now I must warn you all," Gandalf said, remarkably serene for someone who only a moment ago was ready to get into an enormous huff, "Beorn has a terrible temper when angered. He will either help us or," Gandalf paused dramatically, "he will kill us."

Almost on cue, the dwarves erupted into angry shouting.

Maybe it would be better to starve to death in a forest after all. At least then there'd be blessed silence.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** I want to apologize for the long wait for this chapter. I struggled with it for quite a while and I'm still not completely happy with it. There's a lot of dialogue, which always makes me nervous because of characterization and I'm still not completely satisfied with the pacing. But hopefully it will still be enjoyable. Let me know what you think?

And also, I've decided to take a bit of a different route when it came to Beorn, and later Mirkwood. While I liked the movies quite a bit, these two parts were a bit of a disappointment to me. It seemed like they were only with Beorn for a blink of an eye. And Mirkwood, well, I really liked in the books how suffocating and creepy Mirkwood was and in the movie it was just... trippy. So, this chapter, and the one following, relies a bit more heavy on the books than the movie but I hope the changes are not too off-putting.

Finally, I want to thank you all for the reviews, favorites and follows since the last chapter! I cannot tell you how fantastic it is to see others enjoy this story.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing except Laura.

* * *

When all was said and done, Gandalf and I went alone.

Not that the dwarves were happy about it. In fact, they were all pretty outraged. But Gandalf's plan had merit, even if it was a bit underhanded, and the dwarves could see that. But that didn't stop them from glaring at us as we left.

All in all, it was as good a plan as any: we would all arrive in small groups which would make it more difficult for Beorn, our potential host, to turn us away. Gandalf insisted that he would be able to explain our situation to our benefit but I was still nervous.

As we entered the compound, we began to see signs of life. Huge bees, as large robins, buzzed lazily around our heads likely to the huge thatched beehives hidden behind a great hedge, several fluffy sheep grazed undisturbed farther to our right, and to our left three ponies trotted up across the grass. They watched us unblinkingly as we passed before one bolted farther into the compound.

"This is a terrible idea," I told Gandalf warily, watching the pony disappear around a barn.

Gandalf made an irritated noise but didn't deign to reply.

Soon our dirt track ended at the edge of a magnificent courtyard that had three walls formed from the largest building and its two wings. Within the courtyard stood a huge man, undoubtedly the skinchanger Beorn, standing near a great oak log that seemed to have been partially stripped of its branches.

The huge man, with a thick black beard and hair and arms and legs like tree trunks, was bent close to the pony that had run at the sight of us, and murmuring too quietly for me to hear. Whatever it was that the man, Beorn, said seemed to satisfy the pony because it trotted off without a backwards glance.

Then Beorn's attention turned fully onto us. "Who are you?" He demanded gruffly, axe in hand. "What do you want?"

I shifted slightly to the right, trying to hide behind Gandalf.

"I am Gandalf," Gandalf replied genially, "Gandalf the Grey."

Beorn looked unimpressed. "Never hear of you."

Oh, good.

Gandalf cleared his throat. If I didn't know any better I would say that he was nervous. "Ah, perhaps you've heard of my cousin, Radagast the Brown who resides near the southern borders of Mirkwood."

Beorn lowered his axe slightly, thank God. But then his attention switched to what little he could see of me. "And what is this little fellow?"

I took a deep breath and stepped out behind Gandalf. "I'm a hobbit." At this, Beorn frowned impressively. I bowed, "Bilbo Baggins, at your service."

Beorn watched me for a long moment before dropping his axe to his side. "What do you want?"

Gandalf's eyes twinkled and I knew right then that he had found his opening. Without a moment to lose, Gandalf began explain our journey through the mountains, how our company had lost all our essentials, and that we'd very much appreciate Beorn's help.

"Goblins?" Beorn demanded intensely, eyebrows furrowed. And that was when Thorin and Dwalin rounded the barn coming into view.

The three of us paused in our conversation, allowing Thorin and Dwalin to approach.

Thorin and Dwalin bowed once they came to a stop next to me if one could call it that. It was more of a grudging nod, really.

"These are not hobbits," Beorn boomed in displeasure. "They are dwarves!"

Next to me, I could see Thorin tense. On his other side Dwalin was doing the same. This could not end well.

"Ah," Gandalf replied, "Yes, that is true. But they are fine fellows all the same."

Beorn's scowl made me think he did not believe Gandalf. But he did not stop Gandalf's story, even though he grew more and more impatient as the dwarves continued to arrive. Next came Fili and Kili, Dori and Nori and Ori came shortly after while Gandalf was describing the goblin tunnels, then Bifur and Bofur arrived while Gandalf detailed their escape, followed by Bombur and Gloin as Gandalf described us getting caught in the trees, and then finally came Oin and Balin as Gandalf reached the climax of the story at the eagles' timely arrival.

At the end of it all, the sun was beginning to dip lower and lower into the sky and Beorn seemed satisfied.

"A fine tale!" Beorn declared, "The best I have heard in a long while. You may be lying, of course, but you deserve supper for the tale regardless even if most of you are dwarves."

I sucked in a breath at Beorn's words, hoping that the others would not react rashly.

To my relief, and surprise, they did nothing but follow Beorn into his home.

Gandalf raised a hand to me, gesturing for me to fall in line.

"Well, that probably could have gone better," I muttered to Gandalf, allowing him to place his hand on my shoulder. "Are you sure you know what you're doing, Gandalf?"

Gandalf let out a sigh in reply. "My dear girl, of course I do."

I don't think even Gandalf believed his own words.

That evening we feasted. Beorn, for all of his initial reluctance, was an excellent host. His oversized table, even for Gandalf, was laden with bread, honey, cheeses, and huge tankards of mead. It was delicious and we all ate ravenously. So much so that there was very little talking amongst us and instead we all listened to Beorn's tales of the wildlands on the east side of the Misty Mountains. The dwarves themselves were unusually quiet and respectful and not a single piece of food flew through the air that night.

I was torn between jealousy and amusement. They had not been so respectful in Rivendell _or_ Bag End.

After supper we all gathered around Beorn's enormous hearth, the dwarves pulling out their pipes and singing quietly. Gandalf stood close to the door, conversing with Beorn in hushed voices. And then the great door creaked and slammed and when I turned to look over my shoulder Beorn was gone.

"It is time for us to sleep," Gandalf said after rejoining us. "Beorn has agreed to shelter us for a time. But whatever you do, do not go outside until the sun rises."

"Why not?" Kili wanted to know.

Gandalf huffed impatiently, "Because there are more dangers beyond these walls than I can begin to describe. Take heed to our host's wishes."

"As you say, wizard," Thorin conceded reluctantly.

Soon after, we all retired to sleep. Beorn had been kind enough to set up makeshift beds for us all against the far wall of the long hall, made up of straw and woolen blankets. We bunkered down together with Fili and Kili pressed up close to me, caging me in against the wall of the house.

I listened as one by one the dwarves began to snore, falling into sleep. I could even make out Gandalf in the corner thanks to the low embers of the fire. I snuggled into my blanket with a sigh. Just as I drifted off to sleep I thought I heard a loud growl through the wall and the noise of something scuffling against the outside wall.

But I could not be sure that I had not imagined it in my sleepy-haze, because not more than a minute later I had fallen into a deep sleep.

* * *

I woke up to sunlight on my face. I rolled over, groggy and disorientated, rubbing absently at my eyes and inhaling deeply. The nightmares had come again.

I stood up shakily, letting the blankets I had used fall to the floor.

I shivered. Why was I so cold?

Buttoning up my vest carefully, wary of how badly my fingers shook, I made my way towards Beorn's huge table where Bofur, Bombur, Gloin, and Nori were seated.

"Is there anything to eat?" I asked Bofur as I pulled myself into the chair next to him.

"Aye," Bofur said amicably, steadying me with one hand as I tried to sit in the too-big chair. "Good thing you woke when you did. Otherwise there might not be anything at all!"

I surveyed what had been laid out on the table. There was a loaf of bread, a single pot of unused honey, barely any butter in the remaining jars, and untouched fruit. Typical.

I pulled the platter of fruit towards me with some effort before picking out raspberries, strawberries, and a small handful of grapes. "And where is everyone?"

Bofur shrugged, biting into his own thick slice of bread. "The veranda. Our host hasn't returned, well, we haven't been able to spot him anyway. Breakfast was already on the table when we woke."

I drizzled some honey on my bread and asked, "And Gandalf?"

"No idea," Bofur informed me blithely, "Haven't seen him. But the others are outside."

I hummed in response, already losing myself in my breakfast.

The other dwarves slowly left the table as I ate, though Bofur was kind enough to wait for me to finish before we both stepped out onto Beorn's veranda.

I squinted in the morning light, taking in Ori sitting on one of the benches knitting.

Up ahead I could see the rest of the dwarves gathered together around Fili and Kili who were clearly sparring.

Bofur let out a laugh next to me, patted my shoulder, and went to join the others.

I nodded in greeting at Ori before turning to walk in the opposite direction. Over my dead body would I try to spar with any of the dwarves.

Instead I spent my day wandering Beorn's lush gardens. They were different from the ones I found in Rivendell. While Elrond's gardens were immaculate and well-maintained, Beorn's gardens were much more organic, sprawling haphazardly across his grounds. I spent much of my time trying to both dodge the oversized bees and to identify the many different plants I found, many of which I could not recognize, not even with my new-found knowledge thanks to Nori's book.

I had become so wrapped up in the humming serenity of Beorn's gardens that I did not notice how low the sun had gotten until my stomach made itself known to me. Hurriedly I darted between the flower beds and hedges back towards Beorn's house, letting out a sigh of relief when I found myself back on the veranda.

Pushing the door open, I could hear the dwarves conversing within the house. My suspicions were confirmed when I took in the sight of most of them already surrounding the table, laughing and shoving each other playfully.

I smiled fondly. Dwarves.

"Master Baggins," Thorin said at my left, causing me to jump. I hadn't even noticed he was there.

I nodded at Thorin, wary. He was not looking at me as he did on Carrock, like I was a puzzle. Now Thorin looked at me like he did whenever he whenever he spoke to any other member of the company: with a tolerant sort of resignation. That was a bit unnerving.

"Thorin, how are you feeling?" I asked politely, testing the waters.

"Well." Thorin replied impatiently, arms crossed. "Where have you been?"

"I was in Beorn's gardens." I informed him calmly. Across the house I noticed that Gandalf had rejoined us. "I lost track of time, I suppose."

Thorin frowned before settling back against the pillar that he had likely been leaning on before my arrival. "We were concerned when you did not arrive for midday's meal. This place is dangerous."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, resting my shoulder on the pillar. "You think this place is dangerous? Or are you referring to our host?"

Thorin was quiet for a long moment. "I do not believe that he means us harm," Thorin told me, "But that does not mean his intentions will remain that way."

"What else can we do?" I demanded. "And anyway, I think he's been perfectly kind to us. Gandalf trusts him, that's good enough for me."

Thorin harrumphed at the mention of Gandalf.

I eyed him with amusement. "You know, it was Gandalf alone that got me to agree to this quest in the first place."

Thorin turned his head to look at me. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," I replied, watching Gandalf as he settled in at the table in between Dori and Balin. "I owe him rather a lot."

Thorin let out a thoughtful noise. "I suppose we both do, if he is what brought you to us."

I started in surprise. That was almost _nice_ of Thorin to say. Our relationship seemed to have pulled a one-eighty seemingly overnight. If we weren't careful we'd probably end up friends.

"Try to have a little patience," I suggested to Thorin as we both pushed off the pillar. "Don't call him a grocer and we'll be fine."

I grinned as I approached the table, making eye contact with Bofur who beamed back.

"Bilbo, come!" Bofur gestured to the chair on his left next to Oin.

I hauled myself into the chair Bofur had motioned towards, smiling at Oin once I had settled.

Most of the dwarves' attention was not on me but on Gandalf, who was doing a good job blowing smoke rings and ignoring us all.

Finally, his patience seemed to snap as he declared, "I will answer no questions until after dinner. I have not had anything to eat since yesterday."

The dwarves grumbled but complied, digging into the food before us. Supper was much the same as the night before, delicious and filling. With the absence of our host, the dwarves were much rowdier than the previous night shouting at each other and telling obnoxious jokes. Though, I noticed, they still did not throw food.

After we had finished eating and Gandalf had a few puffs on his pipe, he finally seemed ready to talk.

"Where is Beorn?" I asked as the rest of the dwarves leaned in closer, "Has he not returned from last night?"

Gandalf shook his head.

"No," Gandalf replied tiredly, inhaling deeply from his pipe. "I followed him for a time, all the way to the Carrock but he has disappeared into the mountains."

"Why?" Thorin demanded. "What if he is to lead Azog to us?"

"Do not be a fool," Gandalf commanded impatiently causing Thorin's expression to darken. "Even Azog knows better than to come near Beorn's lands. We are quite safe."

After that, Gandalf insisted we all go to bed. For a brief moment I thought the dwarves would argue but instead we all did as we were bid.

"A word, if you please, Bilbo," Gandalf called after us.

I sighed and rolled my shoulders. I could feel the eyes of the dwarves on me. I nodded at Fili, whose eyebrows were raised, as I passed and joined Gandalf at the hearth.

"What is it?" I asked once I was sure that the dwarves' attention was no longer on us. "Is something wrong?"

"Not at all," Gandalf told me quietly, "I spoke to Thorin this evening."

I made a small noise. That explained our surreal conversation. "He's let it go?"

Gandalf huffed out a laugh. "Yes, as much as his nature will allow. Dwarves are naturally distrustful creatures."

That was as good as it was going to get.

"Thank you, Gandalf," I said, turning away to join the dwarves.

"There is something else we must discuss," Gandalf told me solemnly.

I turned back, frowning. "What?"

Gandalf sighed heavily. "I always meant to see you all safe over the mountains and now by good management and good luck I have done it. But I have other pressing business to attend to."

Oh, no.

"Gandalf," I said shakily, "I need you to be perfectly clear. What are you saying?"

"This is not my adventure, my dear," Gandalf explained gently, "I must leave you."

"No," I gasped, "Please, you can't leave me. You told me you'd keep me safe!"

"And now," Gandalf countered patiently, "You have the company to look after you. Or rather, they have you to look after them."

I shook my head, fearful. "I'm not the same as a wizard and neither are they!"

"I would not leave you if it was not important, Laura," Gandalf told me, "I have very little choice in the matter."

We were both quiet for a long time. I was in disbelief. Gandalf was leaving.

"Gandalf," I asked finally, "What exactly are you leaving us for?"

Gandalf was quiet for several heartbeats. Then, "I told you once that evil will always try to find a foothold in the world."

I eyed Gandalf, worried.

"In the southern forests of Mirkwood is an ancient fortress called Dol Guldur." Gandalf told me slowly, eyes unfocused. "I must go there and investigate. There are signs pointing to a great darkness that is festering there."

I took in a shaky breath. Oh, God.

"Once I am finished, I will meet you all on the slopes of the Lonely Mountain." Gandalf said, likely in an attempt to sooth my anxiety.

I didn't reply. If this evil was a terrible as Gandalf said, evil enough for a wizard to investigate, then Gandalf was in real danger, even I could figure that out. I did not want him in danger. He was too important to me. He was my friend.

But what could I say except, "Of course, Gandalf."

Gandalf smiled gently, lifting a gnarled hand to rest on my shoulder. "Now, perhaps you should join the others. We will speak more tomorrow."

I knew a lie when I saw one. But I didn't argue. It wouldn't have done any good, anyway.

"Good night, Laura," Gandalf said quietly, removing his hand.

I nodded back. "Good night, Gandalf."

Not a minute later, I found myself tiptoeing between the dwarves to take up my spot pressed between the wall and Fili's back. I settled onto my back, ready to stare up at the ceiling all night, because no way was I falling asleep now, when I felt Fili shift next to me.

"Everything alright, Bilbo?" Fili whispered next to me, voice laced with sleep.

I swallowed thickly, blinking away tears.

"Yes," I replied, pleased that my voice was steady, "Thank you Fili."

I felt Fili roll back onto his side and listened to his breathing even out. And then I continued to listen long after he fell back to sleep. It was a very long time until I finally followed.

* * *

The next morning I woke up in terror, but from what I couldn't remember. It was nightmares again, dark and cold, and I was starting to think that they were not ordinary.

I pushed to my feet, realizing that I was once again the last one to wake.

Tripping over myself, I approached the table to find that our host had rejoined us some time in the night. And that Gandalf was missing.

"Little bunny!" Beorn called when he noticed me. "Come."

Beorn grabbed me by the back of my jacket, lifting me clean off my feet to set me in the chair next to his. I made a strangled noise as Beorn poked my stomach, ignoring the offended looks Fili and Kili were shooting at Beorn.

"Little bunny getting fat on bread and honey," Beorn declared with humor.

"Little _hobbit,_ if you please," I shot back grumpily as Beorn deposited an overflowing plate of food before me. Despite the warm sunlight streaming in through the open door, I shivered.

Beorn only laughed in reply, launching into a tale about how he had carved the Carrock. Beorn was in remarkably good spirits, laughing and eating with vigor. After he finished his story, he revealed why he was so cheerful.

During his absence, Beorn had indeed gone back into the mountains, all the way up to the cliff where we had our battle with Azog. He had even encountered a warg and orc scout near the borders of his land and what he had found had more than impressed him.

"It was a good story of yours," Beorn informed us, "Even better now that I am sure it's true. I do not like dwarves but I hate goblins more. Killed the goblin king! I shall think more kindly of dwarves after this."

The dwarves did not reply, busying themselves in their breakfast, likely more out of an attempt to keep from snarling at Beorn than actual hunger.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Master Beorn," I said after I realized my companions were not going to provide conversation.

"If all beggars that appear at my door tell such a good tale, they might find me kinder," Beorn said, pushing a large mug the size of my chest towards me. "Now, what is it that you need?"

"We are meant to journey through the Mirkwood," Thorin told him plainly.

Beorn's eyes narrowed. "Mirkwood? You walk a dangerous road."

I shifted in my chair, unsure. "Can you help us?"

Beorn did not answer. Instead he stroked his beard thoughtfully, moved towards his open door, stepped through it, and disappeared out of sight.

Well then.

"Some help he was," Gloin grumbled. The rest of the dwarves made noises of agreement.

"That wasn't a 'no,'" I shot back, climbing down my chair and moving towards the door.

I peered out into the sunshine. Nothing. Beorn was gone.

I did not catch sight of Beorn once that day, or Gandalf, so instead I hauled out my book of plants and spent my time back in Beorn's gardens trying to identify the plants that I didn't know from the day before. I didn't know what else to do. Without Gandalf or Beorn we were dead in the water. At least this was somewhat engaging.

After carefully bookmarking each page with a sample of a plant that I had identified, I made my way back towards Beorn's house just as the sun began to set.

And then promptly ran into Ori.

"Master Baggins," Ori hiccupped in surprise, pulling his papers close.

I couldn't help but smile. Despite my repeated attempts to get Ori to call me Bilbo I was still fighting a losing battle. "Hello, Ori. How are you?"

Ori smiled back, nervous. "Very well, thank you."

"I'm surprised to find you out here in the gardens," I admitted after a beat of silence. "I was under the impression that dwarves aren't particularly fond of plants."

Ori shrugged sheepishly. "We aren't, that is, not generally. But this place," Ori gestured around us at Beorn's compound, "Well, it's amazing. I couldn't help but document it."

"Yes," I found myself agreeing. "You're absolutely right."

Ori smiled, this time with a bit more confidence.

My eyes fell on Ori's papers. "What did you choose to document, if you don't mind my asking?"

Ori brightened. "Not at all, Master Baggins. Here," He allowed me to take a few of his papers.

I glanced over them quickly, my heart sinking at all of the writing. I couldn't read them. But then something caught my eye at the very bottom of the stack.

"Ori," I breathed out, blown away. "These are absolutely amazing."

I could hear Ori shuffling bashfully next to me but all I could focus on were the drawings.

To say that Ori was an artist was a huge understatement. The sketches were so detailed and exquisite, as if they really were flowers and bees and little stone walls and ponies that I could just pick up off the page.

I was in awe. Finally I shook myself out of my stupor and handed the pictures back to Ori with great reluctance.

"Truly Ori," I said sincerely, "Those are fantastic. My grandmother would love you."

"Thank you, Master Baggins," Ori replied, undeniably pleased. "Being a scribe is my craft, you see. I have to get everything right."

I stared at him, feeling a rush of fondness towards this young dwarf who was so different from Fili and Kili. "You did. More than."

Ori flushed pink.

"I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head. "I don't mean to keep you. I was just heading back to the house."

"So was I," Ori told me shyly.

"Perhaps we could walk together?" I offered.

Ori nodded and quickly fell into step beside me.

Rounding the barn a few minutes later, we found the rest dwarves out on the veranda, all of whom were looking out into the distance probably looking for Gandalf or Beorn or both. Or, I realized as Dori rushed up to us the moment we rounded the corner and began to scold Ori for wandering off, for wayward siblings.

I waved to Ori as his brother dragged him off towards Nori and decided to approach the rest of the dwarves.

"Hey," I greeted Fili in a low voice.

Fili turned to look at me. "Bilbo where have you been? The gardens again?"

I shrugged, not bothering to deny it.

"Have either of them returned?" I asked nervously.

Fili shook his head. "No. Uncle's not pleased."

We both looked over to where Thorin was engaged in a heated discussion with Balin. Thorin's expression could be described as many things but Fili was right, pleased was not among them. I would have chosen words such as angry or furious or livid.

Great.

"Well," I sighed. "We might as well go in. There's not pointing waiting around out here. The sun will have set completely very soon."

Fili nodded in agreement and together we moved towards the open door, surprised to see four sheep and three dogs exiting the house. What the hell?

The two of us ducked inside, wary. On the table lay dinner, with fresh pitchers of mead, steaming loaves of bread, and huge wheels of cheese. The fire in the hearth was stoked and our blankets freshly folded.

Fili and I exchanged a look. Animals as housekeepers.

Middle Earth was so weird.

We climbed into chairs quickly, pulling the food towards us and began to fill our plates. Not a minute later did Kili join us with the rest of the dwarves close behind him.

That night dinner was quiet, Gandalf and Beorn's absences glaringly obvious.

Once we had finished eating the dwarves moved towards the fire, as had become their custom. I moved to join them, only to catch movement out of the corner of my eye out on the veranda. The sun was almost completely hidden by the Misty Mountains, with only long stripes of oranges, pinks, and purples, left behind in the west.

Turning fully towards the door, I caught sight of what could only be Beorn moving near the barn.

Against my better judgment, and with Gandalf's warning to stay in after dark pushed to the back of my mind, I slipped out through the door and moved quietly towards the figure.

My instincts were right, I realized as I drew closer, it was Beorn. And he had noticed me.

"It is not safe for you out here, little one," Beorn told me, latching the door to the barn firmly.

I cleared my throat, achingly aware of our huge difference in size. "Yes, Gandalf explained. It's only- I wanted to apologize if I. Well, if I was too impertinent earlier today."

Beorn turned to face me fully, eyes glittering in the low light.

"I only meant," I continued nervously. "I did not mean to demand more than you are willing, or able, to give."

Beorn snorted, turning away to look towards the mountains, "You have done no such thing. You will find that I am not easy to offend."

I made an ambiguous noise. That wasn't exactly what Gandalf had implied but I'd run with it.

"I have been gathering supplies," Beorn informed me in a low growl. "Should you wish to leave on the morrow you and your dwarves will be provided for."

"I," I started, surprised. "Thank you, Master Beorn. Truly."

We were both silent for a long while as we watched the sun disappear completely, leaving behind only stars and a thin sliver of the moon.

And then Beorn said something that absolutely astonished me.

"You are like me," Beorn said plainly, as if commenting on the weather.

I glanced up at him with a frown, sure that I had misheard. "I'm sorry?"

"I have met halflings before, long ago," Beorn said, his eyes still on the sky. "You are not like them."

My breath caught in my throat. Oh, no.

Beorn moved his gaze to rest fully on me. "You are not a hobbit but nor are you of Men."

I opened my mouth to explain or plead or even deny but no sound came out.

"I am neither a true bear nor a man," Beorn told me simply. "We are caught."

"It's complicated," I agreed hoarsely, summing up my thoughts quite succinctly.

Beorn settled a huge hand over my shoulders, engulfing both and most of my back. "It is a comfort to meet someone so close to kin."

"Kin?" I squeaked out. "I didn't know that there were other skin-changers."

Beorn looked away, an expression flitting across his face so quickly that I wasn't sure what I saw. But the closest I could guess was raw agony. "Once there were many. Now there is only one."

I could feel my eyes sting at his words. "I'm so sorry."

Beorn did not reply. We stood together for another handful of heartbeats before Beorn turned away.

"Come," he said is the softest voice I had ever heard out of him. "Let us return you to your dwarves."

I could do nothing but agree.

* * *

We left the protection of Beorn the next morning.

Gandalf had returned sometime during the night and after breakfast he announced that it was time for us to leave. During the night Beorn had prepared supplies for our journey: huge water-skins, sealed jars of dried fruit, clay pots of honey, and what looked like hardtack carefully wrapped and in packs. He had even gone so far as to allow us the use of his animals, a horse for Gandalf and a small heard of black and white spotted ponies for the rest of us.

We all quickly collected our meager belongings, gathering together on Beorn's veranda to say goodbye to our host.

"The way through Mirkwood is dark, dangerous, and difficult." Beorn warned us, voice grave. Water nor food will be easy to find, and not very much of it will be wholesome. There is a stream that runs through that forest, dark and strong. Take heed not to drink from it, or bathe, for the water there carries enchantment of great drowsiness and forgetfulness."

The dwarves all nodded in understanding while Balin and I traded looks.

"And above all," Beorn said lowly, "Do not stray from the path."

"Of course, Beorn," Gandalf agreed amicably, already mounted on his horse. "Thank you."

The dwarves and I all chorused our thanks and some of us, like Balin and Dori, even bowed. Then they all moved towards the ponies.

I watched the dwarves begin to climb onto their ponies before turning back to Beorn.

"Thank you for everything, Master Beorn," I said to the tall man, allowing him to ruffle my curls roughly in goodbye.

"Farewell little kinsman," Beorn replied gruffly. "Should you and your company ever come back this way again, my house will be open to you."

"Thank you," I repeated, reaching up and grabbing the mane of my pony to hoist myself up. Before I could even attempt to pull myself into my saddle, Beorn grabbed my pack and lifted me into the saddle himself.

I glowered as Beorn laughed, turning my pony to fall into line between Bombur and Dori. Once we had cleared Beorn's main gate I turned back to look, surprised to see Beorn watching us. He lifted one great hand in a last goodbye.

And that was the last time I would see Beorn. Or so I thought.

We travelled that day much like we had at the start of our journey. We did not stop for lunch or even supper, instead continuing until the sun began to set forcing us to make camp. I could see Mirkwood forest in the distance, vast and spanning in both directions.

That night we camped under the stars in bedrolls that the dwarves had received from Beorn. I was pleased that I had held onto Bilbo's for the entire journey, even if it was a bit worse for wear.

In the morning we rose swiftly, passing apples from Beorn's trees between us for breakfast, before covering the rest of the distance to Mirkwood.

We arrived on the forest's edge by midmorning and I did not like what I could see. I did not know if it was my own instincts or some kind of hobbit intuition but something about the forest scared me. It felt like it was rotten or sickly.

It did not help that once we had dismounted the ponies and removed our bags, they had immediately turned and galloped away in the opposite direction.

"There's something wrong with this forest," I murmured to myself.

Balin turned to look at me, overhearing my observation. "This was once called the Greenwood." He explained gently, "But I am afraid with time and neglect it has become something rather more sinister."

Sinister was an excellent word for it.

"Aye," Dwalin agreed from Balin's other side, "The elves of this forest would rather hide in their fortress than protect their own lands."

I looked at Balin, about to ask him if that was true, when Gandalf called for us near the trees.

Once we were all close enough Gandalf declared, "I have found the elven gate."

He gestured towards the forest. Nestled between two enormous trees was what looked like a garden arbor, twice as large as the one my grandma had in her backyard, made entirely out of antlers. Beneath it ran a dilapidated stone path that vanished into the shadows of the trees deeper in the forest.

Lovely.

"Here lies your path through Mirkwood," Gandalf informed us, pleased.

Next to me Thorin shifted, scowling. "'Your?' Should it not be ours?"

"I'm afraid I have pressing business elsewhere," Gandalf replied, not sounding apologetic at all. "And here is where we must say farewell."

The dwarves immediately erupted in outrage. I glanced up at the overcast sky, ignoring them. I hoped it would not rain.

"You promised to help us," Thorin hissed out, causing the rest to go quiet. "What of the dragon? You expect us to fight it alone?"

"Of course not," Gandalf snapped, looking cross. "Once my business is concluded I will meet you on the overlook."

Thorin did not look particularly reassured. That made two of us.

"And so I will leave you in the care of Master Baggins," Gandalf continued, "Until I can return to you."

I glared up at Gandalf, murderous. No way was he pinning the responsibility of this quest on me.

Gandalf ignored my glowering and pulled himself back onto his horse. "Bilbo, a word."

I rolled my eyes but obliged, tuning out the dwarves' angry whispers as they began to distribute our supplies evenly into our packs, and moved closer to Gandalf's horse.

"You must be very careful, my dear." Gandalf informed me promptly. "And take heed to Beorn's words."

"Yes, Gandalf," I agreed, adopting the same tone I would use with my dad about curfew when I was a teenager. "Keep on the path. Don't drink the water. Don't eat anything we find. Got it."

Gandalf eyed me for a long moment, expression that of deep thought. Finally his face broke out into a look of surprising fondness. "I have faith in you. I will see you again, on the slopes of Erebor."

I reached into my pocket and fingered my ring briefly, in reassurance, before asking, "Is there really no other way, Gandalf? Other than through Mirkwood?"

Gandalf shook his head, "Not unless you go two hundred miles north or twice that distance south."

I sighed. We did not have that sort of time.

I watched with a heavy heart as Gandalf gathered his reigns into his hands, "Very well. Please be careful."

Gandalf graced me with a rare warm smile before calling out to the rest of the company, "Do not stray from the path, lest it be the last thing you ever do."

With that parting warning, Gandalf took off south, if the position of the sun was any indication.

And I was alone.

I turned back to look at the company and couldn't help but smile, despite the anxiety gnawing at my insides.

Well, maybe not completely alone.

As I approached, Bofur handed me my pack, bulging from supplies, with a small smile.

"You alright, Bilbo?" Bofur asked.

I slipped the straps of my pack over my shoulders, wincing at the weight. "Yes, of course, Bofur."

Bofur let out a thoughtful noise. "I know you and the wizard are right close. But don't worry we'll look after you."

I couldn't help but crack a smile, "And I you."

Beneath the antler gate, Thorin shouted for us all to ready ourselves.

"Stay together and remain on the path," Thorin decreed beneath the antler-gate, "We must reach the mountain by Durin's day."

I rolled my shoulders, falling in line between Nori and Kili. As if on cue it began to rain.

Typical.

We passed through the antler-gate one by one into the shadows of Mirkwood. Almost immediately the air seemed to shift. It felt heavy and smelled of decay. I glanced around at the dying trees, nervous that with every step we took the light seemed to grow dimmer.

And so it did.

Though the high tree canopy prevented much of the rain from reaching us, the ground was still damp and the remaining stones of the path were slippery. And what little light we had was immediately filtered by the tree branches, setting our surroundings in a sickly-grey light.

I could see small creatures, tiny black squirrels darting between and through the trees. I really hoped, as we continued our trek, that we would not become desperate enough to eat them. With our luck, though, I was not so sure.

That night it was determined that it would be too wet to build a fire. Instead we all huddled together in against a few of the massive trees that lined the path, making sure we kept it in sight at all times.

Thorin declared that watch was still needed now more than ever. None of us argued, instead we all ate our dried fruit and hardtack quietly. We had decided to save the honey for when we would eventually grow sick of the taste of our current meal, as there would be very little variation in the coming weeks.

After we all set out our bedrolls, it seemed as though none of us could settle. Around me I could hear the dwarves toss and turn, no one but Oin able to fall asleep. I could not blame them. Something about the surrounding forest made me feel as though we were being watched. By what I did not know, but I did not feel safe enough to sleep.

Eventually, though, my exhaustion got the best of me and so I fell into a restless slumber, wary even in sleep of what might be watching.

The following morning we all quickly packed our things, eager to be back on the path and out of the forest. We had been in Mirkwood for less than twenty four hours and we were already eager to leave.

The next three days passed much the same as the first. We fell into single file, one after the other, in order to keep track of each other. The forest grew darker, so dark that it only a few rays of light were able to reach us, and those were few and far between. Instead the forest settled into a murky darkness and the only color I could see were the deep greens of the leaves and the occasional flash of Fili's blond hair. At night we would settle along the path, surrounded by total darkness since the constant drizzle of rain made it impossible to start a fire.

I did not like this forest. Not as a human or as a hobbit.

After several long days of walking, I was ready to collapse. Not only was my pack something awful to carry but I was also exhausted from being so on edge. I could not shake the feeling that something menacing was watching us, and had been on edge since the moment we entered Mirkwood.

I studied the rest of the dwarves, dark blobs more than anything else, as I reached into my pocket and rubbed a finger against my ring absently. They all looked as exhausted as I felt.

I settled in next to Oin, allowing him to fuss over the cut through my eyebrow, which was healing nicely if I didn't say so myself.

I watched absently as the dark figures of Fili, Kili, and Dwalin took their axes to the roots of the nearest tree, obviously trying to collect firewood.

A dwarf settled in on my other side, eyes gleaming in the dark as he leaned against the wide tree trunk Oin and I were resting on.

I squinted through the darkness before realizing that it was Thorin next to me. My eyebrows rose. It was difficult for me to tell whether Thorin still had lingering suspicions of me, as Gandalf implied, or if he was genuinely offering overtures of friendship. I had a feeling it was a bit of both.

I nodded in greeting regardless, rolling my shoulders in pain. Carrying all of that extra weight was brutal. "Good evening, Thorin."

Thorin raise an eyebrow, as if to say he didn't find much good about it. "Burglar."

We both settled into a comfortable silence.

When Dwalin, Fili and Kili were done gathering firewood, Kili dropped a pile of the roots at my feet and began to reduce them into kindling.

I frowned at the sight. Even in the dimness of the forest the roots looked rather odd. They were gnarled and twisted, to be sure, like roots tended to be but they were also seemed oily and black.

I shivered. Mirkwood was the worst.

Despite my reservation, Fili and Kili lit a fire. If you could call it a fire. The flames guttered weakly, no larger than that of a candle and seemed to spew thick black smoke. But it was better than nothing and at the very least we were able to see our surroundings.

We were all still crying out in delight and congratulations when there came a rustle from the trees. Not one of passing, like a squirrel moving, but it was as if the entirety of the trees around us began to shake.

And then they attacked.

At first I couldn't identify what they were because as soon as they dropped they seemed to block the light from the fire. I could feel whatever they were brush against me, huge, as big as a bird. And there were so many of them, I could hardly believe what I was seeing.

They were moths. Huge and black, the size of my hand, they descending on us attracted no doubt by the light of our measly fire. They were flying in the air and crawling all over me. I wanted to open my mouth, to yell for the others to put out the flames, but I could not. I was afraid of these moths. Of this place.

Thorin, it seemed, came to the same conclusion and had no reluctance in yelling at the others, "Put it out!"

Finally, one of the dwarves recovered enough to do just that, though who it was I couldn't see, and we were plunged back into darkness. Almost immediately, as if a switch had been hit, the moths retreated, likely back into the trees.

And we were left in the darkness.

That night, after a morose dinner of hardtack and honey, we all lay down to sleep. I stared into the dark for a very long time, terrified. Because that night I saw what had been watching us.

Eyes. They were yellow and green and red and seemed to move around us from one blink to the next.

Cold, sickening dread settled in my stomach and I knew it would not leave me until we got out of this forest.

And I was starting to think that we would never make it out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** So this chapter did not come out the way I expected. I was shooting for having the Company already be in Thranduil's Halls by the end of this chapter but that... did not happen. Instead there's just a lot of Mirkwood. But I realized as I was writing that, in the book in particular, there's quite a bit that happens in Mirkwood so I'm pretty satisfied with the pacing and how I portrayed the creepy hopelessness of the forest. I hope you all will like it, too. Next chapter will be all about the elves and dungeons and fun prejudices.

I want to thank you all for your favorites, follows, and reviews. I seriously love the feedback.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing except Laura.

* * *

Mirkwood was suffocating.

As the days, weeks, wore on a sense of dread and hopelessness fell over me. And, if I wasn't mistaken, the rest of the company was starting to feel the same way. Our supplies were dwindling, our meals were smaller, our water-skins growing lighter, and the forest path seemed never ending. I was anxious to see that the round belly I had started with had dwindled so much that I could feel my own ribs.

Then there were the eyes. They seemed to watch us at all times, I even caught sight of them during the day- if you could call it day since the sunlight was so weak we could hardly see each other in the gloom.

And then there were the nightmares.

I had an inkling after the first few nights that they were not ordinary. And when more time had passed, weeks really, and they continued, it dawned on me that they were not going away. In fact, as we continued deeper into Mirkwood, I realized that they were getting worse. So much worse that I had woken up three times the night before and in the morning I was numb with cold and shaking like a leaf.

I wished, desperately, for Gandalf. I wished he was here with us. I wished that I had told him everything about my ring and my nightmares because in that forest I honestly believed I would never see him again.

I was really only grateful for one thing during our time in Mirkwood and that was that my companions were so wrapped up in their own misery that they did not notice my problems.

Even Thorin was staring to crumble. He was more sullen than ever, only truly speaking to Balin and Dwalin and even then with only one word answers. Two days previous he snapped at Kili, of all people, and that was when I knew we were in trouble.

And then, of course, it got worse. In the middle of our third week the path ended.

Before us was a black stream, deep and wide. The dwarves and I huddled together along the edge, staring despondently at the opposite bank. The rotten remains of a bridge stood on either side of the stream thanks to a fallen tree that had smashed through the middle. The tree was almost completely submerged, its huge thick branches sticking out of the water were the only evidence that it was even there.

I eyed it warily, listening to the dwarves grumble in dismay. That was not good.

"What do we do?" Dori demanded anxiously.

I exchanged a look with Bofur, who offered, "We could swim?"

"Don't be a fool," Thorin barked. "Beorn said this stream is enchanted. It isn't safe. We must find another way across."

We spent quite a long time sitting at the stream's edge and glaring at the other side. We ate our meager midday meal, a small chunk of bread and one sip each from our water-skins, in silence. All of our attention was spent on trying to think of a way across.

After our meal, Fili and Kili had moved together towards the wreck bridge giving the branches a serious once over.

"These branches might be strong enough," Kili suggested hopefully, already moving forward to give it a try.

Before I could even open my mouth to declare that was worst idea I had heard since entering the forest, Thorin intervened.

"Kili," He called to his nephew, voice filled with authority as he rose to his feet. "We send the lightest first."

I narrowed my eyes. Surely Thorin didn't mean me.

A swift glance around confirmed that the dwarves were already staring at me expectantly.

Oh, hell no.

"No," I announced determinedly, "Absolutely not."

"You're the lightest," Kili informed me as if I didn't pick up on Thorin's implication. "We need to be sure it's safe!"

I turned to glare at Kili and asked, "Listen, we're all friends aren't we?"

Kili looked taken aback. So did, to my surprise, the rest of the dwarves.

"Of course, Bilbo," Kili replied reproachfully.

I turned my scowl onto the rest of them. "Then I feel you should know that I would rather chew off my own arm than cross those branches."

I rolled my eyes as the others scoffed and grumbled at my words. I listened halfheartedly to them argue amongst each other for a few minutes before a soft rustle of leaves from across the river caught my attention. I frowned, trying desperately to see through the darkness at what might be there. The dwarves caught on quickly enough, all of them growing quite as the rustling became louder.

We all stood tense for a long moment, weapons at the ready, before something huge and white burst through the trees, leaping clean across the broken bridge and snapping the branches of the fallen tree in its wake.

It was a deer, I realized while it was in the air. A pale deer, huge and pearly white even in the dim light of the forest. Its antlers grew at least three feet from its head and it looked to be twice the size of a horse.

The deer skittered across the forest floor, knocking Nori, Bofur, and Gloin down and shoving me back into Bombur with its flank before darting away through the forest.

Behind me, I could feel Bombur lose his balance. I turned quickly only to find him already halfway falling into the dark water below us.

On instinct I reached for him, grabbing the first thing I could: his beard.

I had two fistfuls of his red braid in hand, pulling desperately at it to try and keep Bombur out of the black water all the while shouting, "Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

It was not enough, I realized in panic a split second later, I was nowhere near strong enough to pull Bombur back to safety and I could feel my own footing slip.

Suddenly there was a dwarf wrapping his arms around my middle, pulling me, and by extension Bombur, as best he could away from the stream. Not a second later came several more hands tugging at my shoulders and hip before reaching around me to grab onto Bombur's suspenders.

After a terrifying minute in limbo that felt bizarrely like a game of tug-a-war, we all fell back onto the shore in a huge pile not unlike how the majority of the dwarves entered Bag End the night we met.

I wheezed out a breath, more than aware of how Bombur was crushing me. Beneath us the dwarves were cursing and trying to roll out from under the heap.

Finally, after extracting limbs and elbowing each other in the ribs a fair number of times, we were all free.

I sucked in air, struggling to my feet and stumbling away from the group. I could see Bofur and Bifur crowding Bombur, checking him over and berating him at the same time.

I cracked a smile for what felt like the first time in weeks at the sight of such familial affection. Turning away I let my eyes travel up and down the river bank. Though the monster-deer had made it across I had my doubts that any of us could make a leap so successfully.

Then a black blob further up the opposite bank caught my eye. I don't know how I had been able to see it for what it was, as everything in Mirkwood was a black blob after a certain distance, but there it was resting along the stream's shore.

A boat.

No way.

I scrambled towards it, feeling hope begin to kindle in my chest. I ignored Thorin shouting behind me, instead choosing to follow the stream's bank so that I came to a stop directly across from the little boat.

I narrowed my eyes, desperate to confirm what I was seeing.

"Burglar," Thorin snarled from close behind me.

I turned to him, ignoring how he had begun to open his mouth likely to reprimand me, and pointed to my discovery. "Look. Do you see it?"

Thorin took a step closer before going very still. It was entirely possible that he had stopped breathing.

"Fili," Thorin shouted over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off the boat, "Come here!"

We waited in silence as the other dwarves approached, Fili coming up beside Thorin with his brother close behind.

"What is it Uncle?" Fili asked curiously.

Thorin lift his hand to point, as I had, towards the boat. "Tell me what you see."

Fili was quiet for a long moment then declared, "It is a boat."

"A boat?" Gloin asked eagerly. "Are you sure, lad?"

"Yes," Fili confirmed after a moment, "It looks as if it is banked along the shore."

"Is it tied?" Balin questioned, voice urgent.

Fili was silent for a few heartbeats before he replied. "No, I don't believe so."

"What good will a boat do us?" Dori wanted to know. "We cannot cross the river to it."

We all became lost in thought as silence settled around us. Then an idea occurred to me.

I turned to the others, "What about a rope?"

For the first time in many weeks, the dwarves seemed to brighten. They all began to talk at the same time and yet still appeared to be on the same page. In just a few short minutes the dwarves had engineered a plan to get the boat onto our side of the river.

We all watched with bated breath as Kili nocked an arrow to which the dwarves had tied a coil of rope, took aim, and fired.

There was the sound of splitting wood and as one Fili and Kili pulled the rope taut. I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. It had actually worked.

It was a long time before the boat reached our bank. And when it did, it seemed to cut through the gloom eerily like a ghost ship. Loose moss and vines covered the little vessel but the boat itself looked sturdy enough.

Dori stepped up, the second length of rope in his hands which was tied to a huge hook, pulled back his arm and threw the hook with all of his might. It caught in the branches of the trees on the other side and Dori gave it a few strong tugs to make sure it was secured. Seemingly satisfied, Dori tied the rope around the nearest tree giving us the means to pull ourselves across the river.

Now it was time to test the plan.

I already knew what was coming before anyone could suggest it.

"Send the lightest one first," I repeated dully. "I know."

The dwarves looked relieved that I did not argue and to all of our surprise, Ori volunteered to go with me.

"I'm the lightest after Master Baggins," Ori explained nervously. "We'll go together."

As expected, Dori threw up quite a fuss. But what was most surprising was Nori's adamant refusal to let Ori anywhere near it.

Eventually Thorin grew tired of their grievances and snapped, "Very well. Master Baggins. Ori. Let us get on with it."

I shrugged at Ori who bravely clamored in first. Then I found myself being hauled up and into the boat by Dwalin who took a long time to inspect the boat to his satisfaction.

It took us a long time to reach the other side. The boat, though usable, was still precariously unbalanced and with our every movement to pull our boat along the rope above us the boat would tip, bringing us alarmingly close to the black water of the stream. It did not help that every thirty seconds or so the rest of the company would demand that we report our status, clearly worried that we would not make it. It would have been sweet if it wasn't so damn irritating.

Finally, _finally, _we made it to the opposite shore. I stood up and was the first to hop onto solid land. I offered a hand to Ori, who gladly took it, and together we breathed out a sigh of relief.

"We've arrived!" I called to the others across the stream.

Ori and I both smiled at the loud cheering we received in reply.

Together we watched the boat slowly make its way back across the stream, the arrow holding strong and true, to the dark blobs that were the rest of the company. After we were sure that the boat had arrived back with the others, Ori and I slumped against the nearest tree and waited.

Next to me Ori led out a shaky sigh. I turned to him, eyebrows raised.

Ori must have seen my expression- damn dwarven night vision- because he said sheepishly, "I am not overly fond of deep water."

I made a noise of vague agreement. I couldn't blame him. That creepy stream almost made me hate water, too.

We watched as four more dwarves stumbled into the boat. I frowned. That seemed like too many for such a little vessel.

Clearing my throat, I shouted, "Be careful, please! The boat is a bit unstable!"

"Yes, Bilbo!" Fili called back, exasperated.

I rolled my eyes at his words. At least I warned them. If they fell in it wasn't going to be on my conscience.

Ori and I kept our eyes on the boat during its crossing, jolting up in alarm a fair number of times as the black blob tipped precariously to one side and the dwarves in the boat tried desperately to right themselves.

Soon Fili, Kili, Dwalin, and Balin had joined us on our side. Balin looked a bit green and Dwalin thunderous but overall they were well. We shouted an affirmative to the dwarves on the other bank before watching the boat slice across the water once more.

Then came Dori, Nori, and Bofur who managed the boat a great deal better than the rest of us, likely because Dori had taken control and would shout curses that drifted across the water at the other two dwarves if they so much as moved a finger.

Next Oin, Gloin, and Bifur arrived, who seemed to have the worst trouble of us all and I honestly thought that they would fall in more than once. Oin was furious when they arrived and refused to talk to anyone about their crossing while Gloin looked sheepish and Bifur looked completely unconcerned as he joined his cousins.

Finally Thorin and Bombur were the last to join us and seemed to be the ones with the least amount of difficulty. Their journey was completely silent and once they had disembarked the boat we all gave an exhausted cheer.

That night we camped as far from the stream as we could walk before collapsing, eager to put the eerie magic behind us. We fell asleep quickly that night, truly believing that the worst was behind us.

We were so wrong.

* * *

Four days later we ran out of food. Our water-skins were nearly empty and our morale had dipped to an all-time low.

And then there were the cobwebs.

As we continued along the path that seemed to slope down into some sort of valley, there seemed to be more and more silky webbing in the trees and undergrowth of the forest. And they were not small either. They were easily large enough to catch a deer or, I couldn't help but think with a shiver, a hobbit.

I was not the only one who noticed either. The dwarves were wary, even scared I think, of what we were walking into. I could feel Kili regularly press up close to me in the murky darkness as if to protect me. Or, perhaps, to protect himself.

Though we were safe on the path, Balin assured us, which was protected by some sort of magic we were still in danger. We had no food. Our water was almost depleted. And we had no idea how far we still had to go.

"Is there no end to this accursed forest?" Thorin growled next to me as we took our midday break. Though we no longer had food we still seemed to stop at the same times we would have for meals to maintain a routine.

I hummed thoughtfully, lifting my head to stare up into the trees. There was a large and impressive oak not far off the path that seemed to stand taller than the rest. Its thick branches hung low, low enough that if I were to stand on someone's shoulders even I could reach them.

Thorin seemed to come to the same conclusion I did. He turned to me, almost hesitant. "Master Baggins, may I ask of you-"

I didn't bother to let him finish. I already knew my answer. "Yes, alright. I'll need a hand, though."

Once the rest of the dwarves heard Thorin's idea they were all for it. Only Fili seemed even a little reluctant.

"You'll be alright Bilbo?" Fili asked half-heartedly, his hand resting on my shoulder.

I shrugged. "I used to climb trees all the time as a child. And it'll help, I think, knowing exactly where we are."

Fili agreed with a nod, allowing Dori to grab hold of me to lift me into the tree. Once Dori was sure that I had a good hold, he let go and backed away to join the others.

I glared up at the branches above me. There were quite a few. How did I always end up doing something ridiculous?

With one last sigh I began to climb, ignoring the dwarves' well-meaning shouts of encouragement.

I don't know how long it took, or how high I really was because I refused to look down. All I could do was climb towards the thin rays of sunlight that seemed to grow stronger with every minute. And then, with one last heave, I broke through the last of the branches and felt, for the first time in weeks, true sunlight.

I remained where I was for a long time, soaking in the light. It felt so good on my skin. I didn't realize how much I had missed it until I felt it again.

Finally, though, I remembered my objective. Squinting in the bright light I slowly took in my surroundings.

And promptly felt my stomach drop. In front of me was sea of dark green, stretching far into the horizon to the east. There was no end in sight.

Feeling sick, I swayed slightly as a breeze passed around me, causing hundreds of butterflies to emerge from the forest. My breath caught and I momentarily forgot my dismay. There were so many, huge and so purple they were almost black and moving like tiny clouds of flashing purple. I wanted to tell Ori. He would love to see such a sight.

With a heavy heart I shook myself out of my reverie and began my slow descent. As I drew closer to the ground, I wondered how I would break the terrible news to the dwarves.

Once I had reached the bottom and caught sight of their hopeful faces I know what I had to do.

I lied.

"Well?" Thorin demanded gruffly.

"There is still some distance to travel," I admitted, trying not to wince as the dwarves visibly deflated. "But! The trees began to thin out farther east. I think we'll be out of this forest very soon!"

As one the dwarves burst into grins, delighted by my report. All except, to my unease, Thorin. I felt only a twinge of guilt. If their hope became lost there would be no way we would ever leave Mirkwood.

I watched as the dwarves began to pick up their too-light packs and begin their march along the path, keen to close the distance between us and our supposed escape.

I did not notice Thorin move to stand next to me until he spoke.

"What did you see, Burglar, truly?" Thorin asked softly, gaze unwavering.

I let my eyes land on the forest floor. There was no point in lying. "The forest looks unending." I admitted quietly, "I saw nothing but green."

Thorin was quiet for a long time, even after he grabbed my arm to move us to follow the others. Then, so quietly that for a moment I wasn't sure that I had heard him, he said, "Thank you."

I didn't answer, my throat closing and my eyes stinging.

Three days later, what little hope I had kindled in the dwarves had almost gone out completely.

Without food or water, even the belief of us being so near the end of the forest was not enough to keep the others motivated. Mirkwood was as dark as ever and the oversized cobwebs were more frequent.

I had found myself next to Bofur wishing, not for the first or last time, that Gandalf was with us.

The Balin called, "Did you see that?"

We all perked up at his question and scrambled over to him as quick as we could.

"See what?" I demanded eagerly, trying to not to mind being pressed uncomfortably between Nori and Oin.

"A light," Balin explained slowly, turned towards the blackness between the trees. "There, do you see?"

We all turned as one, falling silent at the sight of a small twinkling light deep in the forest.

"What is it?" Kili wondered.

"Let's find out," Fili suggested, clearly throwing caution and common sense to the wind.

I exchanged a look with Nori. Not the best idea.

The others did not seem to agree as the rest of the company surged forward off the path towards the twinkling light.

"No," Thorin bellowed at their backs, "Do not leave the path!"

The rest of the dwarves either didn't hear him or didn't care as they neither stopped nor slowed down. Hunger, it seemed, was enough to drive them to absolute recklessness.

I let out a hiss of annoyance as Thorin snarled in frustration.

"Come on," I urged Nori and Thorin, against every bit of sense I had. "We can't be separated."

They reluctantly agreed and we quickly caught up to the rest of the company just in time for the light to go out. I was almost sure that I heard laughter in the forest around us as we were plunged into total darkness.

"Fools," Thorin declared, undeniably furious. Even if I couldn't see his face, I could certainly hear it in his voice.

I turned to look towards where I assume we came from. Going by the grumbling and frantic cries of the dwarves they too saw only darkness. We had done the one thing Gandalf told us not to.

We went off the path.

I sighed. This could not end well.

For a long time the dwarves argued about what to do, their tempers clearly frayed.

Finally, we agreed that it would be best to try and find the path. Nori was quite sure that he knew which direction it was and since none of us had any idea it was decided that we would let him lead.

I managed to walk only a hundred steps before wanting to scream. I had tripped over tree roots five times, the last one sending me sprawling into the dirt.

"Bilbo," Kili said, hurrying to my side. Or I assume the dwarf pressing next to me was Kili and not someone else.

"Yes?" I asked weakly, trying, with little success, to keep my temper in check. I hated this stupid forest and its stupid darkness and its stupid tree roots.

"Are you alright?" Kili wanted to know, laying a gentle hand on my back.

"Sure," I agreed tiredly. "I just can't see well, that's all."

Kili paused and then asked, "Really? How badly?"

I squinted through the blackness at where Kili's voice was coming from but couldn't see anything.

"Pretty bad," I admitted unable to keep my irritation out of my tone. "I'm afraid that by 'well' I mean 'at all.'"

Kili sucked in a breath as the rest of the company murmured quietly around us.

"That's fine, Bilbo," Kili finally said, pulling me to my feet by my elbow. "Here."

Kili's hand slipped into mine and squeezed gently.

Oh my God. I was holding hands with a dwarf. I narrowed my eyes in thought but could come up with no other solutions. This was, feasibly, the best alternative.

"Yeah, fine," I told him resignedly. "Lead the way."

Kili, as it turned out, was an excellent guide. His hand was dry and warm and he always made sure to tell me when to step over a tree root, stopping to lead me over one every single time. If I wasn't so mortified I would have thanked him.

Before I could work up the energy to do just that a second twinkling light appeared.

We all stopped and stared, too startled by the sudden appearance of the light to do much else. It was far away, like the first light had been, but brighter.

As one, we all began to move forward, conscience of our every move. We crept quietly together, Kili's hand gripping mine so tightly that I was beginning to lose feeling in my fingers. I could hear the sound of voices and laughter, unmistakable this time as we closed the distance between us and the light.

We came so close that I could see tall lean figures moving amongst the trees but I was unable to make out any details thanks to the blinding light.

And then, like the time before, the light suddenly went out. All that was left behind was darkness and silence.

The dwarves began to curse loudly, unconcerned about whether or not the figures we had seen could hear them. Kili let go of my hand, moving closer to the others while I stayed where I was.

I tried to push down the feelings of anxiety and fear welling up in my chest. What if the lights were leading us deeper into the forest on purpose? What were they? What was the end-game?

I strained my ears to hear the others and to my horror I realized their voices were moving further and further away.

"Kili?" I shouted nervously, crashing through the undergrowth to where I thought the voices were coming from, tripping over roots and running through sticky spider webs as I went. "Fili? Bofur?"

In the distance, I could hear the dwarves shouting back. And then after catching one last faint cry of "Bilbo," I could hear no more. I was alone in silence and in darkness.

I took a deep breath, feeling the tears of panic gathering on my lashes.

I walked on, desperate to hear anything in the forest, and even hoping for another appearance of the lights. But I found nothing.

I finally found myself leaning against one of the forest's massive trees, trying not to cry, and determined to find my companions once the dark of night had lifted. Even if I would only be able to see a few feet in front of me it was a far better alternative than my current situation.

So, with a heavy heart, I closed my eyes hoping to fall asleep quickly. I wanted to find my friends. I wanted out of Mirkwood.

I fell asleep with tears in my eyes, not hearing the faint rustling of branches above me.

That was my undoing.

* * *

When I woke up next, I thought I was in bed. I felt constricted in the way that only blanket wrapped around you after a restless night could make you feel. I was disoriented for a long minute trying to shake off the terror of my latest nightmare and figure out exactly where I was. I remembered falling asleep against a tree, waiting for morning, and hoping that I would be able to find my dwarves when daylight came.

My eyes shot open in alarm as I took in my situation. I was no longer against a tree but wrapped in something tacky that clung to my skin and clothes. I was moving, too, I could feel that I was being dragged across the forest floor. But how?

I tried to move one of my arms to push myself up and get a look at my surroundings but found I could only move it a couple of inches away from my body. I tried the same with both legs, frighteningly aware of the sticky bindings around me and got the same result. I squinted through the filmy whiteness, trying to see anything, anything at all, as I suppressed the terror clawing at my chest.

Then I heard it: a soft clicking noise and the sound of something moving through the forest ahead of my prone form. Something was making that noise and they had, for all intents and purposes, captured me.

I needed my sword. I needed to get out.

I pushed with all my strength against my bindings, allowing my arm to rise slightly and grasp at the hilt of my sword. With an enormous effort I extracted my sword from its sheath and cut the blade through the wrappings above me. At once the stickiness lifted and I could feel air move against my skin. Confidence rising, I sliced my blade through my bindings, pushing them away from my body with my other hand.

I had successfully pulled the top half of my body free from my confinement when I came face to face with my captor. Or rather, face to fangs.

It was a spider.

And no ordinary house spider either, oh no, Middle Earth did not seem to do things halfway. It was a huge creature, easily the size of a pony, and it was bearing down on me with fangs extended.

I reacted purely on instinct. Pulling the hilt of my sword close to my chest, I thrust it up into the spider's gaping maw.

The spider squealed in agony, its huge thick legs moving wildly on either side of me, desperate to pull itself away from my blade. I followed it, not allowing it to extract my sword from its head. I gave one final push at my sword, feeling the blade sink deeper into the spider before pulling it out quickly.

The spider fell over, flailing violently in its last moments. Then, after a few seconds, it went utterly still. Its legs curled up tight against its massive body.

It was dead.

Panting heavily, I quickly turned my attention to my still-trapped legs, cutting away at the remaining spider silk. I pushed myself to my feet quickly, keeping a tight hold on my little sword, and got a good look around me.

I was in a spider den, is the only way I can accurately describe it.

The trees were covered in spider webs, thick and white, their branches curved down with the weight of the webbing. I could see small bundles hangings from the branches above me, which I realized with a rush of sickness were the bodies of the spider's prey.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a second spider moving in the branches above me. Then I saw a third descending a nearby tree trunk. Spiders number four, five, and six crawled out of several tent-like webs to my left.

And they were all moving, surprisingly swift, in my direction.

I could feel cold dread envelope me. I had been extremely lucky to have been able to dispose of the first spider. There was absolutely no way I could take six, if not more, spiders head on.

With trepidation I noticed that my left hand had come to rest over my waistcoat pocket where my ring still rested.

I realized, as the spiders caught sight of me and moved even faster, that it was my only option. So, without stopping to think about the promise I had made at the river, I slipped the ring over my index finger and took a step back.

At once I felt like I had been dunked in an ice bath. The world turned suddenly blurry and gray and the spider's noises were muffled. Immediately the spider nearest me lunged at me, or where it had last seen me. I quickly bolted out of the way, moving to press myself against the nearest tree trunk. I took in a deep breath and held it.

I watched as the spider hissed and shifted, obviously confused at my sudden disappearance. The others quickly reached it and began to investigate. The spiders moved with the grace of a true predator, each move calculated. They hissed and clicked at each other for a long while, long enough that I had begun to become lightheaded because of a lack of air. Finally, they seemed to determine that I was a lost cause and began to move away back deeper into the den.

I swallowed thickly, trying not to vomit. I had suddenly obtained a paralyzing fear of spiders.

After I had decided a safe amount of time had passed and no more spiders had emerged, I quickly pulled off my ring. I felt an immediate wave of relieve wash over me. The greens and browns of the forest returned and the air was suddenly much lighter, which was impressive given that I was in the heart of Mirkwood.

I slowly pulled away the rest of the webbing that clung to me the best I could and considered my options.

I could run. But to where?

I could explore. Hell no. I did not want to find out if there were any more spiders out there.

I could hide. Unlikely. I was always terrible at hide and seek.

A noise deeper in the spider den made my decision for me. It was a familiar noise, one I had heard several times before: When we had first arrived in Goblin Town in a haphazard pile of bodies. Once I had found Gandalf in the Goblin tunnels. After I had pulled Bombur to safety.

It was a dwarf's groan.

That was more than enough to make me press deeper into the spider's den. If I could find even one of the dwarves then it would be more than worth the risk.

I did not have to venture very far at all when I found the dwarves. And I had found all of them. All thirteen, strung up in a tree like many white piñatas.

Good God. This day was getting better and better.

I glared at the tree for a moment, trying to think of a way to free them. I was nowhere near tall enough to reach them from the ground nor did I feel confident enough in my sword throwing skills to try and knock them loose.

I eyed the tree's trunk and the spider silk that covered it before sighing in defeat. It would have to do.

With one last cursory glance at my surroundings to determine that the spiders were indeed gone, I began my climb. It was not difficult, per say, to climb the tree. The spider webs were similar to Velcro, making it easy for my hands and feet to cling to the tree trunk and up into the branches. I settled onto the branch that held up three dwarf-cocoons and with one perilous swipe of my sword I cut the first one loose. It fell to the forest floor with a sickening thump followed by a pitiful moan.

Reacting on instinct I froze, reached back into my pocket to put back on my ring, and waited.

Sure enough, not a moment later did two spiders emerge from the forest. They made an immediate beeline to my tree, one stopping to investigate the dwarf-cocoon that had fallen while the other began to scale the tree trunk.

I pressed my back against the core of the tree, watching through the gray haze as the spider walked right over me on its way up to investigate the higher branches

I did my best not to squirm. I had not ever considered hating spiders before Mirkwood. Now I was reconsidering my opinion.

Eventually, though, both spiders moved away, thankfully leaving the one dwarf on the ground where he had landed.

I pulled off my ring once more with a shiver, deposited it into my waistcoat pocket, and counted to one hundred. When no other spiders emerged, I cut down the other two dwarves on my branch.

I waited a long moment, straining my ears to catch any hint of the spiders returning. Nothing. Either the spiders had lost interest or had terrible hearing but either way I was safe.

Then I climbed to the next branch, then the next, cutting down every single dwarf I came across.

Satisfied that I had counted all thirteen dwarves on the ground twice, I slowly made my way back down the tree trunk, rolling my eyes at the dwarves' muffled moaning. Honestly, such theatrics.

Once I had reached my companions I hissed at them, "Shut up you idiots! Do you want the spiders to come back and finish you off?"

As one, the dwarves fell silent.

To my left a dwarf who I was almost positive was Bofur said, muffled by their cocoon, "Bilbo?"

"Yes," I whispered. "Now, I'm going to cut you free. When I do, be ready, the spiders are close by. Are any of you hurt?"

I received a muffled chorus of 'no's' in reply.

"Excellent," I praised them. "Alright, hold still."

I reached for the nearest dwarf and cut through their webbing. It was Dwalin who looked nothing short of livid. He roughly began to remove the remaining spider silk before joining me in freeing the rest of the dwarves.

One by one, the dwarves were freed, all of whom looked nothing short of irritated. None of them were hurt, as they claimed, but Ori and Gloin both looked unwell.

"Spider poison," Oin declared loudly after looking over his brother.

We all froze. Oh, no.

Sure enough, only a handful of heartbeats had passed before not two but three spiders emerged from the trees.

Oh, shit.

"Damn it, brother," Gloin growled, war axe already in hand.

The dwarves began to draw their weapons, the spiders hissing and clicking as they rushed us.

Thorin made first contact, swinging Orcrist in a perfect arc and cutting into the nearest spider's head and severing its front-most legs.

The spider had no time to react as Fili drove one of his twin blades deep between its eyes.

The whole company moved as one as more spiders began to pour out of the trees around us. There were easily dozens of them and they had no intention of letting us escape.

But even when there are only twelve, dwarves are still formidable fighters, as I had learned. Not only were they aggressive and unintimidated but they also moved in sync with one another. If Nori was parrying a spider's fangs then Dori was driving his short sword into its belly. If Bombur landed a well-aimed swing of his enormous ladle then Bifur was delivering a finishing blow with his spear. It was as much premeditative as it was instinct.

I found myself facing off with my own spider, my little sword raised in defense. If there was one thing I was thankful for in my new body, it was its size. I was so small compared to so many other creatures that I was easily able to outmaneuver almost any enemy. I did exactly that with my spider, lunging right and pushing my sword deep into its abdomen in between its legs.

I moved to the next spider, dispatching it easily with a quick thrust of my sword through its head.

Then there was the third spider. It caught me off-guard, attacking from my right as I was still pulling out my sword from the corpse of its fallen brethren. With a swipe of a leg it knocked me clean off my feet, causing my body to hit the forest floor hard enough to knock the wind out of me.

I wheezed in pain, alarmed at how quickly the spider had moved to bear down on me. Behind it I could see spiders number four and five move to join it. I pushed to my feet, dodging the second swipe just barely, and took off away from the fighting.

"Master Baggins!" I heard Thorin shout behind me but I did not stop to turn around. I could hear the spider move quickly behind me and I knew instantly that I would not be able to outrun it.

Cursing, I darted around several trees, leaving the echoes of the battle behind me. And then the spider caught up to me. Its front leg made contact with my ribs, sweeping me away as if I was nothing more than a ragdoll.

I hit the nearest tree with a sickening thump and tumbled to the ground. I hurt everywhere and my arms and legs felt like jelly. It was truly a miracle that I still had my sword in hand.

The spiders' clicking and hissing came closer and I lifted my head just in time to see the spider extending its fangs. On instinct, just like in the Goblin tunnels, I swung my sword and made satisfying contact with its head. The spider pulled back hissing and squealing while the fourth spider moved in to finish the job.

I pushed to my feet and just as the spider opened its mouth to unveil its fangs I took my opening and lunged. The blade of my sword buried into the spider's face all the way to the hilt. I could feel the spider's fangs frantically extending and retracting as it tried to get a grip on me but it was no use. It was dying.

I pulled out my sword with a lurch, my arms screaming in pain. I turned to find the fifth spider already moving towards me, pushing past its still-squealing brethren to reach and I knew I was done for. I could not win this.

But Thorin could. Between one blink and the next he was there, lunging at the fifth spider, and cutting Orcrist deep into its side. With the fifth spider debilitated, Thorin made short work of spider number three, sliding Orcrist through its head like it was butter. He turned, making a final arc with his sword to cut clean through the fifth spider's face, killing it.

I wheezed, collapsing against the tree trunk. I couldn't believe it. What a badass.

Thorin approached not even the least bit winded, the bastard, eyes roaming over me critically.

"Are you hurt?" Thorin demanded.

I shook my head, not trusting my voice. The adrenaline crash mixed with the after-effects of my ring was enough to make me want to lie down and never wake up.

Thorin seemed to accept my answer with an absent nod, looking like he was no hurry to be anywhere. The others must have had the spiders well under control. His eyes fell from my face to my little sword that I was gripping tightly.

"Perhaps your little letter-opener is worthy of a name after all," Thorin said, sounding amused against all odds, "What of Sting?"

Sting.

Well, it certainly wasn't awful. I could work with that.

"Sting," I repeated with a half-smile, sheathing my newly-named sword carefully. Thorin looked extremely pleased that I had accepted his suggestion. He was almost smiling.

Dwarves. So weird.

I pushed myself to my feet, swaying precariously for a moment before catching my balance. Thorin waited quietly, surprisingly patient, and once I was sure that I could walk without immediately tipping forward to land on my face we made our way back to the others.

Or, that was what I thought. Not five minutes later, thanks to my slow shuffle, we had returned to where the dwarves had been held captive and found the entire vicinity empty, save for a couple dozen spider corpses.

I glanced over at Thorin who was already stalking forward, a thunderous frown already etched on his face. I followed a few steps behind, glancing around. There was no sound coming from the surrounding trees and I could see no evidence of the dwarves at all.

Thorin approached one of the spider corpses, hand outstretched to grab a firm old of one of Kili's arrows embedded neatly in the corpse's eye. Or I thought it was Kili's arrow. Thorin, judging by his darkening expression, did not seem to think so.

He confirmed his suspicions when a moment later after examining the arrow he had extracted he hissed out, "Elves."

Oh for God's sake.

"What?" I asked just to be sure that I had heard him right.

Thorin ignored me, letting out an impressive string of dwarven words that I had no doubt were curses. That was all I really had to hear. I rolled my eyes skyward. This was just what I needed.

Now I was stuck in the middle of Mirkwood with no path, no food, twelve apparently kidnapped companions, and a pissed off dwarf-king who had no sense of direction whatsoever.

This could, really, only end one way.

And that was badly.


End file.
